Question of Loyalty
by BlackBarBooks
Summary: When Sanji found Zoro half dead in an alley, he had no idea how much his life was about to change. Corrupted politics and grand schemes loom around every corner and the two of them will have to learn to help eachother if they want to keep their loved ones safe. ZoSan. Modern-ish AU.
1. Concrete

**Concrete**

* * *

The silence of Sanji's apartment was broken by the soft click of his alarm before the news anchor attempted to rouse the chef from the confines of his covers.

"-Is partially caused by the heat wave hitting the-" The pleasant voice explained as the harsh clash of plastic on plastic muffled out the rest of his sentence when Sanji's sleep drunken hand came down on the snooze button.

Sanji cracked his eyes open, yawning and turning in bed so his face disappeared into his pillow. The gentle breeze ruffled his thin curtains slightly, allowing an occasional beam of sunlight to slip inside the room and reflect in the blond locks on the back of Sanji's head.

The alarm began again; blaring the chorus of an old classic that Sanji couldn't remember the name of. His 5 more minutes were up. The blond groaned as he sat up and turned off his alarm. Green digital letters spelling out a boxy 'good morning' before they reverted back to their numbers.

After a long shower and getting dressed appropriately for work and eating his last home-made croissant Sanji took his cup of coffee out the door of his apartment. He sat on the doorstep, long legs spread out down the concrete staircase that lead out to the alley. HIS alley. The alley housing _his_ door and _his_ vacant parking lot.

Why should he have a car when the Baratie was only a 10 minute walk away?

He sat for a while and smoked his morning cigarette, watching the pedestrians pass by his alley without as much as a single glance; like a one way mirror. Beautiful women in their flowery dresses swung their hips elegantly as they passed, providing Sanji with plenty of eye candy as he drunk his morning coffee.

He'd almost emptied his travel-cup and finished his first cigarette of the day when he felt a soft brush against his foot. There it was, like clockwork. Sanji watched as a few cats gathered around him, looking up at him expectantly as they climbed the concrete half-wall at the back of Sanji's alley.

Sanji had a weak spot for strays. He reached inside, grabbing a bag of dry cat food and pouring some in the large bowl hidden along the concrete steps. The cats gathered, crunching away at their artificial-chicken flavored kibble. Sanji tossed the bag back inside before locking up and setting off to work.

Sanji bid all the lovely ladies a good morning as he walked, enjoying the walk through winding backstreets and small rows of apartments. He lit himself another cigarette as he walked, taking the turn down the main street that hosted the Baratie. The homely little restaurant stood out nicely among the multiple fashion boutiques and cozy little cafés.

Sanji's curled brow furrowed when he glared at the giant yellow construction crane towering menacingly over the small restaurant. It wasn't moving today, maybe they finally decided to stop construction? Whatever the reason, Sanji inhaled deep and enjoyed the silence over the street.

Sanji grit his teeth around the cigarette filter, hiding his clenched fists in his pockets as he glared at the steel beams dangling from the crane. That damn construction site RIGHT behind the Baratie had been making noise and scaring off customers for the past month.

It even got so loud at some parts of the day that the chef's couldn't hear themselves think. The headaches had almost gotten persistent now, the throbbing pain barely managing to fade in the moments between work hours.

Naturally the people building the hotel were doing it on purpose, trying to bully the Baratie into selling its lot to them. They'd persistently tried to trick the old man into selling it so it could be demolished, turning into a pool-park or some shit.

Sanji felt the bile rise in his throat at the thought alone. There was no way Zeff was going to sell the Baratie.

The Baratie wasn't just Sanji's workplace. He'd helped build the place as a child alongside his adoptive father. He'd lived on the top floor of the restaurant for years before he moved out. Sanji stepped inside the restaurant by the staff door, looking at the slightly crooked floorboards. It was easy to tell what boards had been arranged by him.

"oi, Sanji! Today's soup duty is yours, right?" Patty made his way over to the blond, bizarrely proportionate hands on his tiny hips. "What should I write on the board? 'The usual swill' or have you named it?"

"Call it the 'Patty-gets-his-face-kicked-in-before-noon-special .'" Sanji threatened casually as he donned his apron, killing his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray before he turned to Patty. The older man was frowning at him, white chalk rubbing off all over his hand as his oversized fist clenched around it.

"Just because you're the assistant head chef doesn't mean you can talk shit like this forever!" Patty stomped off in a foul mood, the frown on his face causing Sanji to grin as he washed his hands thoroughly. Patty would name today's soup 'Sanji special' like usual; it was what the customers were familiar with after all.

The name was starting to stick after all these years. It was probably going to confuse a lot of people when he finally DID name it. Sanji got to work, the soup took a few hours to boil to perfection. If he wanted it ready for the lunch-rush he'd have to get started.

The other chefs were discussing how nice it was to be able to work in relative silence, theorizing about why the construction next door had been halted. Sanji was about to point out that they shouldn't rejoice just yet, it wasn't even 9 am, when a loud rumble shook the tableware.

"AH! It's like they are setting off bombs!" one of the chefs wailed, catching the stack of bowls he'd dropped during the shake. "-are those bastards trying to brings down the Baratie!?"

"That could very well be." Sanji turned back to the pot, watching the water starting to boil as another tremble rippled the water. "Don't worry about it, the Baratie is sturdy enough to handle it. I helped build it myself."

The chefs whined for a bit and got back to work, cursing obnoxiously each time a clash or rumble echoed through the back of the restaurant. There sure was a lot of strange sounds coming from that construction site, different sounds than usual.

* * *

The soup looked perfect.

Sanji couldn't help but smile at the sight as he lowered the heat and watched the broth shimmer. The other chefs came over, glancing into the pot and taking deep inhales of the almost intoxicatingly delicious smell. There was never any leftover of this soup, if the customers didn't eat all of it, the chefs in the kitchen fought over the last bowlfuls.

It was the first thing Sanji invented in the kitchen, he'd been experimenting and testing it since he first started watching Zeff cook. He'd been making it for so long he knew the recipe by heart and had truly perfected the taste. Even Zeff couldn't deny that the soup was excellent.

The old man had never told him the soup was good, but Sanji could see it on the telltale twitch of his braided mustache when he liked something.

Lunch rush was starting, Sanji left the coup on slow boil with the lid on to preserve the flavor as he started working on the rapidly growing pile of orders. Thankfully the noise from the construction site had stopped an hour ago, whatever they were doing before was over or they were taking a lunch break.

"Oi, Sanji!" Carne walked over, patting Sanji's shoulder with a worried look on his face. "I think this order came from a health inspector or a critic or something. He's ordering soup."

Sanji half turned and gave the order a bored glance. "So? The Baratie is clean and the soup is excellent." Sanji turned back to the pancakes he was frying, flipping them off the pan and onto a plate with gusto. "If he's important, you shouldn't keep him waiting."

Carne didn't move for a minute as he waited for Sanji to garnish the plate and pass it onto a waiter. When Sanji's hands were free, the other chef forced the order into his hand, giving him an annoyed look. "Serve him your soup. You're the only one who knows what's in it after all."

Sanji frowned, feeling like throwing the order back just to show Carne that he couldn't be bossed around. But the critic had already waited two minutes longer than necessary, and it WAS true; he was the only one who knew what was in the soup after all.

"Fine." Sanji agreed, serving up some of his soup on a tray with the bread and drink on the order sheet. Carne eyed him nervously and Patty demanded to see if the bowl was clean before he allowed Sanji to leave the kitchen with the tray.

The man on table 12 DID look like a critic or an inspector. His carefully groomed pink hair and pinstripe suit clashing horribly with all the casually dressed people enjoying their lunch. If this guy was a critic, it was a stroke of luck that he happened to arrive right now when the construction next door was silent.

"Your order sir." Sanji said in the most polite tone he could muster, serving the perfectly shimmering clear soup on the table and the basket of bread next to the frowning man. The smell of cologne was stank and pretentious and the man gave Sanji a haughty glare.

"Finally! I'm a famous critic you know, and so far the service here is not scoring very high." The man said with a victorious smirk, glancing around the dining hall. "-and neither is the interior decoration, this place looks like a dump."

Sanji's knew he was being bated, but he refused to give this man the satisfaction. "I am terribly sorry for the wait sir; we have a packed house today." Sanji apologized insincerely in his most sugary voice.

"I don't want your excuses! Go and get me sparking water." The man said with a huff, waving Sanji off rudely with his manicured hand and custom made knuckle jewelry. "And I want LIME in it, not lemon."

"Right away, sir." Sanji managed to spit out relatively politely though his grit teeth. He had a feeling Carne just dumped this guy on him because he was a pain in the ass to wait on. Next table of screaming children was CARNE'S problem.

Luckily they had lime in the fridge and they were spared the frantic rush to the next door grocery store. Sanji made sure to give the glass an extra wipe with a cloth before serving the water on it, dropping in a couple of ice cubes and the lime into the frizzing drink with a scowl.

When Sanji got back to the dining-hall, he could see the critic tuck something into his pocket, smirking joyfully to himself before he raised his overly-decorated hand. "WAITER!" The man screamed, his face suddenly contorted in disgust.

"Yes sir?" Sanji asked softly, placing the ordered drink on the table with a small flourish. Everyone in the restaurant was watching, Sanji could feel the wide eyes of lovely ladies on his body. The man pointed to his soup plate, glaring up at Sanji from his seat.

"What sort of sick joke is this? What is a BUG doing in my soup!?"

There was a low murmur in the entire restaurant, people pointlessly rearing their heads to try to see what was going on. Sanji took a look into the man's soup, indeed, there was a bug in there, pathetically kicking it's back legs as it slowly drowned in the delicious soup.

"I'm not an expert in bugs, so I'm not sure." Sanji said calmly, trying to keep the venom from his words when the man glared at him. "I hope it's doing what you wanted it to when you put it in there."

The man reeled slightly backwards at the accusation, hand subconsciously covering the pocket he probably kept the bugs container. The people in the restaurant were murmuring in shock now, shaking their heads and giving the critic nasty glances. The man was humiliated, and furious.

"What sort of dump is this!? Serving insects in their food!?" The man howled, pointing furiously to the soup and shaking the table threateningly.

"There are no insects in this restaurant sir." Sanji tried his best to keep his tone calm, tough the man's accusations were starting to grate on his very last layer of patience. "You must have brought it in the small bottle you hid in your pocket moments ago."

The man's eye twitched slightly, growing a shade paler as he attempted to set Sanji on fire with his glare alone. "Y-YOU BASTARD! You are a WAITER! How DARE you speak back to me!?"

"I'm not a waiter, sir. I'm the assistant head chef." Sanji said calmly, malice in his voice as the bug stopped moving. "-Your soup is getting cold."

"Fuck this soup! I'm not eating it! IT HAS A BUG IN IT!" The man howled, throwing the table over in a fit of rage and shattering the bowl of soup on the floor. Sanji watched the bug twitch in the puddle of soup, people in the restaurant gasping in shock as bread and broken glass rolled over the floor.

The soup soaked into the floor, slowly spreading it's bizarre pattern along the cracks in the floor and seeping into the bread. The lime crushed under a piece of the glass, sparkling water fizzing it's last and soaking into the crumbled tablecloth.

"If you hadn't put that bug in, the soup would have been fine. Even picking it out would have been alright." Sanji said slowly, crouching down to try to save the white tablecloth from soaking in too much of the soup.

"What sort of bullshit is that to say to a customer!?" the critic yelled out, stepping on Sanji's hand and crushing it into the broken glass and soup littering the floor. "This place is history! The moment I get the health inspector in here this dump will be shut down!"

Sanji felt the glass cut into his skin as the man put more pressure on his hand. The last of his self control slipped out with the blood mixing into the soup under his palm. He blacked out, his body moved by itself, fuelled by rage as Sanji whipped his legs over his head, kicking the man into a wall across the room with a furious roar.

Customers screamed and lovely ladies covered their beautiful heads with dainty hands as the pink-haired man crashed against the solid woodwork, rattling the decorations on the wall. Sanji ran over to the man, catching him by the throat and raising him into the air to glare at him.

"Don't you go ruining our food." Sanji hissed up, ignoring the feeling of the critic's thudding pulse against his palm. "-Your self-righteous crap won't work in this restaurant."

"h-hey! Sanji!" The other chefs came running, and the blond dropped the critic unceremoniously on the floor. "Don't beat up the customers!"

Sanji frowned, anger trembling hands slid into his pockets looking for the reassurance of his packet of cigarettes. "He broke our table and tableware, ruining our food and disturbing the mood for our other customers-" Sanji grimaced, glaring up at Patty who looked absolutely horrified.

"T-that's bullshit!" The critic sat up and grimaced. "Treating your customers this way! How do you even stay in business!" The man glared up at Sanji, blood dripping from his nose and iron-covered knuckles whitening in anger. "I'm contacting health inspection RIGHT NOW! I'll make sure to DESTROY this shitty little dump!"

The man stood up, grabbing his phone and holding it out to Sanji like it was a sword. "I'll make sure your precious little restaurant will go out of business!"

Sanji grabbed a cigarette, lighting it up with a furious glare at the man as they stared each other down. "Who do you think you are?" Sanji snarled, taking a step closer to the man who backed to keep a relatively safe distance between them. "I'LL KICK YOUR ASS INTO A COMA YOU CORRUPTED PIECE OF SHIT!"

Sanji was ready to jump the terrified critic when the other chefs piled around him, holding him back and begging him to calm down. Sanji's body was trembling with fury, his temped too far gone to be kept in check. Sanji couldn't even hear the other chefs, he couldn't see anything but the red murderous haze around the man who DARED threaten Zeff's dream.

"Owner! Please stop Sanji!" one of the chefs wailed, and the name of Sanji's adoptive father managed to break through Sanji's rage.

"Hey Sanji!" Zeff's voice caught Sanji's attention as the old peg-legged man entered the dining hall, displeased expression on his face as he made his way towards the blond. "Were you fighting in my restaurant again, you idiot?"

"Shut up old man!" Sanji snarled, calming down considerably at the sight of Zeff's frown. "He started it!"

"It doesn't matter who started it you idiot!" Zeff yelled angrily, lashing out as he got right up to Sanji's face. "Do you want to destroy this restaurant you idiot!?"

"This man treated me like a- "The critic complained to Zeff as he stood up, gleeful grin plastered on his face.

"You shut up too! How dare you break our furniture and bring bugs into our establishment!?" Zeff shouted as the critic recoiled, his face rapidly growing paler as Zeff poked him in the chest. "Get out! now! We don't serve the likes of you in here!"

The critic took a few hesitant step back, looking from Sanji's expression to Zeff's with increasing dread as he noticed the disapproving faces of other customers. No one here was on his side, children stuck out their tongue at him and old men shook their heads in disappointment.

"I-I'LL NEVER FORGET THIS! YOU'LL REGRET TREATING ME LIKE THIS!" the man shouted in anger, pointing at Sanji and Zeff with his phone as he ran out of the restaurant with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

When the door slammed shut, Zeff turned to Sanji and frowned deeply. "Sanji. Come talk to me in my office." The head chef said sternly, starting his trek upstairs. Sanji gave the old man a few moments to get up the stairs alone before he exhaled deeply, his anger replaced by guilt.

His temper had gotten the best of him again, Sanji ran a hand through his thick blond hair as he set off to join Zeff in his bedroom, the only "office" the old man had. He found the older man sitting on his bed, the swirling chair facing the bed like it always did when Sanji was in trouble.

"Sit down Eggplant."

Sanji did, feeling ten years old again as he watched Zeff's peg-leg tap the floor impatiently. The silence seemed to drag on forever and Sanji eventually cracked under the pressure and disappointed expression.

"He put the bug in there HIMSELF! He was trying to ruin our reputation-"

"-and kicking a critic into a wall isn't ruining our reputation?" Zeff interrupted, his voice calm and infuriatingly logical.

"But he wasted the soup-"

"But nothing eggplant." Zeff said in a tired tone. "I know why you did it. Personally, I think you are more than justified to break every bone in his body ."

"Then why-"

"Sanji." Zeff said calmly and the younger man fell silent. "Someone wants us gone. We need to be careful about how we do things from this point onwards. There might be someone bribing those people, so we can't mess up."

"What are you saying old man?" Sanji groaned, his head was throbbing from a strange mixture of adrenaline and guilt.

"You should go home for today Sanji." Zeff said with an air of finality to it, giving Sanji a very determined look. "Just in case that critic calls the police or something."

"Go home!? Lunch is barely over!" Sanji tried to object, but all he got in return was a kick in the shin.

"Listen here you shitty-brat. We have a dining hall full of witnesses that can assert that man attacked you first when he stepped on your hand." Zeff frowned as he stood up to get a first aid box and took hold of Sanji's hand. The cut was small but the head chef wound it carefully in band aid. "-but if you lose your temper again and attack him in front of the police, you'll be in serious trouble."

Sanji clenched his hand a few times experimentally, contemplating what the old man was saying. Was the Baratie really better off without him right now? The idea alone hurt so bad; way worse than the cut.

"Go home for today. If the police are called I'll tell them you had to go home because that man injured your hand." Zeff gave Sanji a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his tone practically dripping with fatherly concern.

Sanji sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration, gritting his teeth as he cursed himself for his short fuse. The small cut in his palm ached under the bandages and the blond slumped forward in the creaking chair.

"Fine." The younger cook sighed and looked up at his adoptive father, feeling rather dejected at being sent home like a naughty child at his age. "I'm still coming to work tomorrow though."

"You better." Zeff closed the first aid kit with a click and tossed it onto the unmade bed he'd been sleeping on for as long Sanji could remember. "I'm counting this as a sick day shitty brat! Go make the most of it and sleep or something!"

Sanji allowed the older man to shoo him testily down the stairs and to the staff-quarters. Sanji rolled his eyes at the only father he'd ever needed as he put back his apron. He washed his hands as thoroughly as the band aid allowed; getting any remaining soup and blood from between his fingers.

He couldn't remember how long it had been since he left the Baratie before dark. Probably a few years. He usually arrived in the morning and finished dinner shift. Even IF the old man yelled his ears off every time he caught him doing unnecessary overtime.

Sanji sighed as he lit himself a cigarette in the alley behind the Baratie, glaring at the creaking crane of the construction site as he set off for his apartment. He could get himself some lunch and then maybe go for a jog while it was still bright out. He hadn't had a jog in the sun for a while, it was probably the reason he was so pale too.

When Sanji rounded to corner and walked down the alley housing his beaten up front door, he paused. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the air, the hot air was sizzling around him and the smell of hot asphalt was burning his nose. For a minute or two, Sanji stood still and listened, trying to ignore the roar of the traffic and the laughter coming from the coffee shop across the street.

Mewling? Sanji's ears strained, he was no crazy cat lady, but he could tell when there was something wrong with an animal. It wasn't just one cat either, it was several. Crying out in chorus from the other side of the half-wall at the back of his alleyway.

The cook took a few careful steps towards the wall, straining his ears as he stood right in front of the concrete, looking up at the steel rebar jutting out of the half finished top of it. Sanji's eyes squinted as he reached up, running his finger along a particularly rusty looking steel bar.

Except it wasn't rust. Sanji smudged the staling blood between his thumb and index finger, looking up wide eyed to see the almost hand shaped mark of blood smudged across the top of the half wall. His heart was hammering in his chest. The cats had noticed him from the other side of the wall, jumping up and staring at him expectantly. One of them rubbed it's light gray coat along the rebar, smudging a large line of blood along it's fur.

With a single jump, Sanji was on top of the wall besides the cats, looking over the other end of the alley he had never really taken a good look at before. The alley hosted nothing but backdoors and dumpsters until the road took a turn. Directly across from Sanji's wall, at the other end of the rather long back alley, was the construction site.

But where did the blood come from? Did someone gut themselves on these steel bars while jumping over? There was a trail of blood a little further down the alley from the construction site, maybe someone had jumped over from Sanji's side and cut himself on the concrete.

Sanji jumped down from his wall into the other back alley, slipping on something and almost falling face first into a pile of garbage and broken bricks. He managed to catch himself just in time. His palm ached where he'd been cut earlier and he cursed as the cigarette fell from his mouth.

The cook winced slightly as he stumbled to his feet, his breath caught in shock when he noticed the pool of blood smudging the sole of his shoes. There was a body laying against the other end of the half-wall he just jumped over; a blood soaked, motionless body of a young green haired man.

* * *

**To be continued.**

Get ready for another adventure! This one will probably be a bit longer, my first real attempt at a "modern-ish" AU story.

Please tell me what you think so far in the box below!


	2. Blood

**Chapter 2 : Blood**

* * *

Sanji's heart was beating madly in his chest.

The body he had found was laying on its side, with the young man's face half buried in a bloodied pile of dirt and decomposing leaves. Handprints slid down the wall from where the man had attempted to climb it, only to fail and collapse into a pool of blood.

Sanji carefully inched closer to the body, his own heartbeat almost deafening as he listened for any sign of life from the other man. There was a bleeding wound at the man's chest, his shirt was torn up and soaked in rapidly congealing blood, making it hard to gauge the nature of the injury.

Sanji reached out to touch the man, terrified of feeling the telltale cold of death on the other man's skin. His hand hovered in the air right above the man's shoulder. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. What if this guy was dead? Then what would he do? Sanji swallowed thickly to regain his voice.

"H-hey, are you alive? "

Sanji wasn't sure if he was expecting an answer. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him to call the cops or an ambulance, but his body was moving on its own. Some sort of morbid curiosity and twisted human nature drove him to reach out and touch what could very well be the first dead body he'd ever seen up close.

When Sanji's fingertips made contact with the man's neck, the reassuring warmth travelled up his hand and Sanji let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He could see slow, labored breathing rustle the leaves by the man's mouth and feel the man's skin twitch under his touch.

He was alive!

"It's okay, I'll call you an ambulance right now." Sanji assured the guy , who let out a muffled groan.

The cook had barely managed to wrestle the phone from his pocket and pressed the first two numbers for emergency services when the man's blood stained hand rose from the ground. Reaching out and latching onto Sanji's hand. The man's massive bloodied hands held onto Sanji's phone in a vice like grip, obscuring the screen completely.

Sanji glanced at the man who rightfully should be dead, or at the very least unconscious, and was met with the most intense gaze he'd ever seen. The green haired man was staring at him with unseeing half-lidded eyes so dark Sanji couldn't see were the pupil met iris. Excitement travelled up Sanji's spine like a cold hand, making the hair at the back of his head rise.

Those were not the eyes of a dying man.

The air around them was thick with tension, Sanji's senses set to overdrive and his adrenaline flooded brain started cataloguing the details.

He could feel the other man's blood soak into his bandages. His phone was burrowing into his palm from the pressure, making his palm ache slightly. Sanji was utterly transfixed as the man's lips moved, fresh blood staining the corner of the green haired man's mouth.

"no… Ambulance…" The man said slowly, his voice as demanding as it could be while almost inaudible. Sanji's hand was free from the vice like grip and suddenly time caught up with the world springing into motion around them. The man groaned in pain; attempting to stand up with a shuffle of blood soaked limbs.

" You need to see a doctor! You look like shit!" Sanji watched nervously as the man's muscles twitched and bulged, blood dripping from his chest as he managed to get halfway up from the ground before his arms seemed to buckle in pain.

"No. No doctors." The man somehow managed to gurgle with a spit of blood and determined look on his face. His voice was strained and husky, blood dripping from the man's mouth and into the rapidly congealing puddle on the ground.

Sanji sighed as he looked around the alley. There was a chance that the person who stabbed this guy would come back to finish him off and Sanji really didn't want to get caught in the middle of that. He had things to do and the ladies of the world would weep if he got a stupid looking scar on his face.

Sanji secured the man's arm over his shoulder, turning back to the wall he'd jumped earlier. The man hissed in pain, white knuckled grip on that white sword. Sanji felt bloodied hands grip onto his upper arm, thick fingers clutching down painfully as Sanji hoisted him to his feet.

He'd take this guy back to his place and hide him there while he waited for an ambulance. The green haired guy was heavy and his breathing was ragged and weak. He really did look like shit; Sanji wasn't sure he was going to handle jumping over this wall.

"Hey, we're climbing over this wall, do you think-" Sanji's question cut off when the guy collapsed, pulling Sanji down with him. Sanji grit his teeth and pulled the guy closer, somehow managing to get him partially onto his back. He could feel the blood soak into the back of his nice jacket. This guy better put out for the dry cleaning bill.

With great effort, Sanji managed to get the heavy man over the wall, trying to jolt him as little as possible as he landed in front of his apartment. The people passing by didn't glance in his direction as Sanji got his keys and unlocked the front door. His hand was covered in warm blood and the keys kept slipping in his grip.

Sanji grit his teeth, forcing the key into its home while trying to prevent the blood-soaked stranger from falling off his back. The key turned and clicked as Sanji shouldered the door open, stumbling into the living room and dropping the unconscious man down on his sofa.

He got up and locked his door, realizing he'd been trailing bloody footprints over his floor. Sanji cursed to himself and kicked off his shoes, worrying at his lower lip when he noticed the man was bleeding again.

What had he been thinking? Sanji rushed to the bathroom, grabbing one of his dark blue towels and rushing back into the living room. He'd MOVED this guy, without knowing anything about other injuries or exactly how bad this guy was cut up! He could have killed him!

Sanji kneeled beside the couch, pressing the towel against the man's chest to try to stop the bleeding. Finally his first-aid knowledge was kicking in. Sanji began to panic, seeing someone grievously injured had jumbled head up. It was completely normal to lose some common sense when you were put in a serious situation like this.

Sanji kept the pressure consistent as he reached for his phone, going over everything he was planning on telling the emergency staff. His name and address came first. Then he would have to tell them exactly what was going on, that he'd found a guy who'd been stabbed, or shot, or both?…

Sanji frowned when he realized he wasn't sure WHAT exactly had happened to this man. He had assumed he'd been stabbed, but that was just because the man was clutching a sword. He could have been shot too. When the bleeding had mostly stopped, Sanji ran off to the kitchen to get a washcloth, bowl of warm water, first aid kit and a garbage bag.

He had to know how bad the wound was, both to be able to explain it via phone, but also because his curiosity was killing him. He kneeled by the couch, gingerly pulling at the neck of the man's shirt.

The shirt had been white once, but had now merged into a thick layer of congealing blood on the man's chest. Using the scissors from the first aid kit, Sanji cut the shirt down the middle, pulling as carefully as he could on the cloth and watching in morbid fascination as it peeled off the man with a dripping layer of blood.

When Sanji managed to get down to the middle of the man's body, where he assumed the wound was located, the shirt peeled off almost completely, dangling in rags in Sanji's fingers. The blond stared, watching the finely cut vertical sliced fabric in shock.

He pulled down the bizarre, blood-soaked haramaki, managing to slip it off the man's hips and pull it down his legs. He tossed the horribly dirty and unfashionable cloth into the garbage bag, turning back to the man's sticky shirt. He pulled at the bottom of the fabric, arching a brow in confusion when it came off easily, apparently already cut down at the man's hip.

The shirt was in tatters, so Sanji cut both sleeves open, pulling the shirt free from the guy's body as carefully as he could before tossing it into the bag. Sanji took the wet washcloth, dabbing at the outline of the blood and wiping off the hardening flakes carefully. Sanji moved his hand in synch with the steady rising and falling of the other man's chest.

The man seemed to be sleeping, his breathing was heavy and regular and he appeared relatively stable. His skin was a little less pale now that his bleeding had stopped. Slowly and thoroughly Sanji worked his way around the man's chest, being as careful as possible not to accidentally rub in any pieces of debris that might be lodged in the wound.

As Sanji ran the rapidly reddening washcloth along the man's shoulder, he could see the man's back arch slightly in pain. The blond paused his hand and waited for the other man's body to relax again, wringing the bloody washcloth into the bowl of water. He held the man still with his bandaged hand as he dabbed carefully at the spot just below the man's collarbone.

His curled eyebrows raised when he saw a relatively deep gash trailing down to the pectoral. It didn't look very serious, in fact it only looked about a fingertip deep. Maybe it was just bleeding a lot? Sanji trailed the edges of the wound, his eyes widening with each new rapidly deepening inch.

When Sanji had reached the other end of the wound, he fell indignantly onto his behind as he stared in wide eyed horror at the man occupying his couch. He had a deep slash trailing from his left shoulder and diagonally down to his right hip. It was a rather unreal sight, it didn't look like anything a person should survive getting. It looked like someone attempted to spill all his guts at once.

Sanji fumbled for his phone, sitting up to trail the other edge of the gaping slash with the washcloth as he shakily attempted to dial emergency services. Sanji paused when he glanced up at the man's slightly pained expression.

Sanji grimaced in frustration, lighting himself a cigarette as he kept cleaning the man's wound with slightly trembling hands. This was bad. He should have called the ambulance right away. Who cared what the hell the damn Marimo-head wanted? No doctors? Anyone who would say no to doctors with their torso carved up like this was insane.

_Or had a good reason. _

Sanji refused to linger on this possibility. He should call an ambulance as soon as he'd secured the bastard's place among the living. It was hard to get medical assistance after the majority of local doctors were hired by that Wapol bastard.

Sanji flicked the ashes off his cigarette into an ashtray on the table. For someone who'd lost this much blood; the damn Marimo looked stable enough. The blond finished cleaning up the area around his wound, closing the gash the best he could with butterfly bandages and gauze. It took almost three packs of butterfly bandages to close the entire slash, bringing the perfectly smooth edges together like a disturbing fleshy puzzle.

Sanji's cell phone was lying on the coffee table, still waiting with two out of three numbers dialed for emergency services. Sanji wiped the blood of the floor, stuffing his jacket into the bag of bloodied clothes and tossing it into the small laundry room as he went to get a blanket.

He threw it over the sleeping man on his couch and killed off his cigarette, reaching for his phone when the doorbell rang. The sound seemed to echo in the apartment, disturbing the injured stranger enough to cause him to let out a soft snore as his head lulled tiredly on the armrest.

Sanji closed his phone and tossed it back onto the coffee table. He couldn't remember how long it had been since someone rang his doorbell. He was usually at work at this time of day, so it could be that someone rang his doorbell all the time while he was out.

When the blond wrenched the door open, he was greeted by a bare chest and the smell of cigars. Sanji took a step back to assess the man standing in his doorway. He had no idea what a male stripper dressed as a police officer was doing at his apartment.

"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong house." Sanji said awkwardly, getting ready to close the door again. "I didn't order a stripp-"

"Captain Smoker, East Blue police force." The man interrupted, flashing his very real badge in Sanji's face with a scowl. "Are you Sanji?"

"Yeah?" Sanji said hesitantly as the officer barged into this apartment, looking around with a scrutinizing glare at his interior. Sanji was mentally freaking out. What if that police officer was looking for that injured guy? What if Sanji was sheltering a criminal!?

"Who's this?" Smoker asked dismissively, glaring at the green haired man snoring softly on the couch.

"Just a friend." Sanji lied with ease, keeping his face as neutral as possible as the police officer stared him down. "He sometimes gets to crash here after his night shift. Try not to wake him up, he's a grump." Sanji waved it off, silently praying that the police officer wasn't looking for the man he brought into his home.

Captain smoker arched a virtually non-existent eyebrow at that, giving the man one last glance before storming over to Sanji. "We had a man by the name of Fullbody down at our police station earlier; claiming that a waiter by the name of Sanji attacked him during lunch."

"I'm not a waiter and I didn't attack-" Sanji felt his temper start rising, that damn critic bastard Fullbody! How DARE he accuse him of physical assault! He'd practically BEGGED him to kick his ass!

"Naturally we went to the scene and the owner told us that it had been in self defense, given the circumstances that Fullbody apparently threw a table over and stepped on your hand consequently making you unable to work for the remains of the day." Smoker said slowly, looking down at the bandages on Sanji's hand. "I need to confirm the injury."

"Yeah, he crushed it into glass laying on the floor." Sanji raised his hand, realizing a second too late that his bandages were partially soaked in the stranger's blood from before. Sanji's heart was beating at a million miles per hour as the police officer grabbed his wrists, turning it roughly as he examined the bandages.

"It looks bad. You should change the bandages." The older man said in a gruff tone, pulling a notebook from his unzipped jacket and a giving Sanji an impatient glare. "Go on. I need to see the wound itself."

Sanji unwound his bandages; holding out his hand to show the officer the medium sized gash in his palm. It was crusted over with blood, but after cleaning the marimo's wound, Sanji wasn't sure he could call his cut an injury with a straight face.

"Hmm. Looks like there is no serious damage done to any nerves." The police officer said casually, checking something off on his list. "It looks much worse than Fullbody's busted lip and bump. Unless you want to press charges we'll call it self-defense and drop it."

Sanji DID want to sue that bastard Fullbody; if only to show him up for having the nerve to go to the police after what he had done. Court took time and money though, two things Sanji didn't have too much of.

It was also very likely that even _if_ he had all evidence and such, a corrupted man like Fullbody wasn't likely to play by the rules, so taking it to court could get very ugly very fast. especially with the justice system as corrupted as it was right now.

"No, I don't have time for that sort of shit." Sanji waved off the notion, he was getting a bit tense. There was still blood on the bottom of his shoes and he was sure that given the time the police officer would notice. "Do I have to fill in some statement or something?"

"Normally, yes." Smoker said dismissively, shrugging as he turned to the door. "Today I'm not in the mood for the extra paperwork; so unless you specifically WANT to come to the station and give a statement-"

"No." Sanji blurted out as he prepared to close the door. Smoker paused at the abruptness of Sanji's tone and gave him a suspicious glare from the doorway. Sanji caught himself with an awkward grimace, hoping that his white-knuckled grip on the door handle was hidden from view.

"I mean; no thank you. I really would rather just spend my surprise afternoon off at home." Sanji explained as calmly as he could with the panic rising in his chest. Smoker held eye contact for a few silent seconds before trailing his eyes over Sanji's living room.

"Alright, enjoy it." Smoker nodded, dusting off his unzipped jacket as he walked out of Sanji's apartment and to the police car occupying the sidewalk. Sanji closed the door, lingering at the window to watch the police officer leave.

Smoker opened the driver's door and paused. Turning around and looking to Sanji's apartment again. Sanji's breath hitched as he withdrew slightly, staying out of sight as he watched the police officer shutting his car door again, walking slowly towards the blood stained concrete wall at the end of the alley.

Sanji watched in horror as the man's eyes narrowed at the stain, hand resting on the gun holder at his hip. Sanji's heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. If that police officer found the puddle of blood, he'd probably come back to ask Sanji about it.

If he did that, Sanji would have to explain why he lied about the man on his couch. It wasn't looking good for him, worst case scenario they'd make him a suspect. He might go to jail! He was too good looking to go to jail!

Sanji held his breath, mentally screaming in panic and trying to get his body to move. He had to tell, he had to come out and confess bringing the injured man inside and hope they wouldn't make him a part of this. He hadn't done anything wrong!

Smoker paused his walk and frowned when a cat jumped onto the half wall, carrying a dead bird in its mouth. The cat gave Smoker a contemptuous look, crunching down on its prey and staring at the police officer as it spilled it's innards and blood all over the concrete.

Sanji's nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight and Smoker mumbled something obscene about cats and as he holstered his gun and turned back to his car. Sanji waited with his heart thundering in his chest, watching as the police officer rolled down the windows and drove off at borderline illegal speed.

Sanji watched the police car disappear in the direction of the Grand Line district, his blood practically fizzing in his veins. He was so screwed. He was SO done for. If he took this guy to a hospital now, they'd find out he lied when he claimed to know him.

If they found out he lied, they probably wouldn't believe what _really_ happened either. Sanji collapsed on his chair, staring at the sleeping man on his couch with contempt. He was trapped. If he dropped this guy off somewhere remote for someone else to find, Smoker would be able to track his whereabouts to here.

If this guy died, Sanji might be locked up for murder. Thankfully the bastard didn't seem to be at the verge of death. A bit pale perhaps and his brow was furrowed in pain, but he hadn't been spilling his guts out earlier and his breathing was regular. Sanji walked over to take the guy's pulse, relieved to find it steadily beating under the warm skin.

Damn this Marimo! For all he knew this guy could be a killer! Some sort of crazy serial killer who went around slicing people up with that sword. Sanji lit himself another cigarette, attempting to get the sword out of the other man's grip now that his fists weren't clenched as hard in pain.

A slight struggle later, Sanji managed to peel the man's fingers off the white sheath. Sanji placed the sword on the coffee table, patting down the man's pockets in hopes of finding something with an ID on it. Sanji noted that this man did not have a phone on him; a bit strange for a person roughly his age.

All he found was a beaten up wallet stuffed with receipts and approximately 10.000 Beri in cash. Sanji made sure not to touch any of the money, trying to avoid getting his fingerprints on anything hard to wipe off.

If there was still cash in this guy's wallet, he could assume he hadn't been mugged. Sanji scratched his head as he fished a few convenience store receipts out of the wallet and pulled out what he assumed was an ID.

It was a credit card! Sanji excitedly flipped it over, hoping to at least catch this guy's name so he could see if he had any family he could dump him on. Sadly, the credit card was one of those new kind that didn't have any ID on it, but required a pin to use at all times.

Sanji wiped the card off and put it back in the wallet, looking thoughtfully at the receipts on the table and wondering if he should stuff them back in there too. The blond did a quick search to see if there was anything important on them, something that the man had to use later like a dry cleaner or phone numbers scribbled on one of them.

Sadly they were mostly receipts from convenience stores, tallying up the cost of cheap microwave lunches and occasionally alcohol from liquor stores. Sanji frowned in disgust at the man's dietary habits as he serviced his cigarette and compared the notes. Most of them came from the same convenience store; maybe this guy lived close by it?

The blond groaned in confusion, he wasn't sure what to do. He WANTED to get this guy out of his life as soon as possible, but to do so he would potentially have to leave him ALONE in his apartment while he checked out the convenience store. A dilemma.

The man was still sleeping; seeming completely out of it as he snored on the couch. Sanji killed off his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, taking a deep breath and did a round of his house to collect and hide all expensive electronics. He really didn't expect the guy to be able to find and haul everything out of the apartment in his condition in less than an hour; but he wasn't taking any chances.

He wasn't going to be able to avoid leaving this guy alone forever, even if he didn't go anywhere today he still had work tomorrow. Sanji shook his head and put on his shoes, cursing when he remembered they still had blood on them and went to the bathroom to rinse it off.

* * *

_"Hey. _

_I'm the guy who saved your ass. If you wake up, get the fuck out of my house and don't break anything. _

_That's all I want in return._

_p.s I have nothing worth stealing. "_

* * *

Sanji left the note folded on the coffee table in direct line of sight from the couch, right next to the guy's sword. He locked his front door as he left, the anxious knot in his stomach tightening as he headed for the convenience store the other man frequented. Hopefully when he got back that giant pain in his ass would be gone from his life forever.

When he reached the end of his street, Sanji panicked turned around and started jogging back to his apartment. He shouldn't leave this guy alone in his house. He should just call the cops. If he explained it all, he would probably get out of this whole mess within a couple of hours.

Sanji stopped his jogging, pausing and looking at the slight distance to his alley. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, groaning in annoyance as fear started creeping through his mind. What if the police wouldn't believe him though? He could go to prison, he REALLY didn't want to get locked up just because he helped some guy he found half dead in an alley.

Most of the police force was corrupted anyway. They might just pin it on him to close the case as soon as possible.

The fifth cigarette of the hour was lit as the blond turned on his heel again, resuming the walk down to the convenience store. He should just find this guy's family or friends and dump him on their doorstep, or explain what happened and hope they were nice enough to NOT assume he stabbed the moss-head himself.

Sanji growled in frustration, he had no idea if this guy even HAD a family. He didn't DRESS like he had a woman in his life, he was wearing a fucking haramaki for crying out loud! He'd never seen anyone under 60 years old wear a haramaki in his life!

He didn't seem to be much older than Sanji and judging by all the microwave meals he'd been buying he wasn't living with his parents. Sanji grumbled when he made a turn and crossed the road. The traffic was slow at this side of the East Blue district, especially at this time of day.

There was only one other person out on the sidewalk, a beautiful raven haired woman was standing directly across the street and looking right at him. Her hair was perfectly sleek and shoulder length, brushing against the collar of her elegant black dress. Sanji swooned and smiled his widest, getting a small mysterious smile in return. Maybe this was karma!

He helped some smelly bastard in an alley and as a reward he gets to meet this lovely older woman! _Oh mellorine!_ Sanji was so blinded by the woman's radiant beauty he forgot to look both ways before he bounced onto the street.

Horns blared as a car appeared around the corner, flooring the breaks to avoid driving into the love sick chef. Sanji jumped backwards, crashing back to reality when the middle aged man shook his fist out the window of his pickup. Sanji frowned at the man, raising his hand apologetically and turned back towards the woman.

She was completely gone. Disappeared into thin air like a beautiful angel! Sanji crossed the second half of the street without incident, looking frantically for any sign of the mature-beauty. Sanji sighed in disappointment when he saw no sign of her down the street or up it.

How strange. Sanji decided to bury the memory of their short and perfect encounter deep in his heart and get back to work. He had mossy-bastard to get rid of.

The convenience store he was looking for was small and nuzzled tightly in between a bakery and a shoe-shop. Sanji double checked the receipt to make sure this was the right place before he passed the street. The bakery itself seemed to be a part of the convenience store, sharing the same name and adorable shell-logo; 'Shell Town' was painted over the window in big friendly letters.

The street had the same nice feeling as the area around the Baratie did before the hotel construction began. It would be nice if some of these areas managed to stay this way. East blue was the peaceful suburban part of the city after all.

It was hard to believe that half-dead guy from the alley used to frequent a place like this. Sanji couldn't keep down a laugh when he imagined the green-haired bastard sitting on one of those pink collapsible chairs outside the bakery.

Sanji stopped on front of the store, picking up a couple of abandoned plates and coffee mugs from one of the white round tables and brought them inside with him. The moment he stepped inside, a tiny golden bell chimed happily and Sanji was certain he was in the wrong place.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

okay! I'll be trying to keep up a relatively fast update schedule for this story. I'm not promising anything, but I'm aiming for approximately 2 chapters (4.500 words) a week. Maybe 1 every three days.

I could really use a beta on this, but because of my goal of fast updates on this one I'm not sure there are many volunteers for it. I could try to keep one chapter ahead though.

How about it? Any takers? PM me if you would like to be a beta for this story. Someone with plenty of free time and good punctuation/grammar would be ideal!

Please tell me what you think of the story so far! The pacing is a little slow because this is a marathon, not a sprint. I still don't want it to be boring to read, so please let me know if you think the pacing is killing the flow.

-BBB


	3. Strangers

**Chapter 3: Strangers**

* * *

When Sanji entered the small convenience store the green-haired man's receipts had led him too, the air smelled like fresh bread and cinnamon. It was getting harder and harder to imagine that swordsman guy setting foot in here.

There was a lovely woman with short brown hair manning the register on the convenience store side. The counter stretched onwards, housing another register and a large glass display full of various pastries. The second register was manned by a small pigtailed girl, currently standing on a chair and handing a customer his change with a smile.

"Rika, please go collect the plates that nice young man brought in for us." The woman at the register said softly, sending Sanji into a flutter with her gentle thankful smile. The little girl jumped the counter, thin pigtails fluttering as she ran over to Sanji.

"Thank you very much!" The little girl named Rika smiled, holding out her hands for the tableware.

"You are most welcome, little lady." Sanji crouched to get to eye level with her, passing her the tableware with a grin. The girl beamed back, blushing cutely as she ran behind the counter and into the kitchen area.

"How can I help you?" The woman at the register smiled, her welcoming charm beckoning Sanji over to fawn at her modest beauty.

"On any other day, just speaking to you would be enough!" Sanji began, the woman's head tilting slightly in confusion as he bowed to her. "-But today I would like some information."

"Information?" The woman echoed in confusion as the little girl returned from the kitchen and took her position by the other register, watching Sanji intently.

"Yes. I'm… looking for a friend of mine." Sanji began, realizing he didn't have a single picture of the Marimo-bastard with him to show the lovely lady. "He's around my age and very muscular." Sanji said awkwardly, measuring the air roughly to give an approximation of the width of the guy's shoulders.

"-He has three earrings in one ear and green hair."

"AH!" The little girl gasped and jumped from her chair, running back into the kitchen with a flutter of her pink apron. Sounds of chairs being dragged around and various pots and pans bashing together filled the store. Sanji blinked, looking up at the woman who giggled at his confusion.

"Oh yes, him. We know him very well." the woman, who Sanji presumed was Rika's mother due to their identical smiles, turned to look at the kitchen door. "Our most treasured customer. He used to come here often and always bought the same thing."

"Used to?" Sanji's curled brow rose in surprise, if this guy was a treasured customer, he couldn't be all that bad. Damn it, now he couldn't ask for his name without giving himself away. He shouldn't have lied about knowing him!

"Yes, he hasn't been around as much lately." The woman continued, watching as Rika returned with a small plastic box. Sanji's eyes trailed the box curiously, the little girl was staring at it and holding it out in front of her like it was her treasure.

"Please give this to him? He hasn't been around lately at all!" The little girl put the box carefully on the counter before she climbed onto a chair, pushing it to Sanji with pleading eyes. "I want him to know I improved!" Sanji could swear that this girl could not become any sweeter unless she sprinkled herself with icing sugar.

"Improved?" Sanji said curiously, opening the container with a careful finger and eyeing the crudely made rice balls inside. There was a lot that could be improved here, the form and filling were uneven and sloppy and the rice wasn't boiled to perfection.

"These look amazing! Did you make them all by yourself?" Sanji smiled, closing the container to preserve the freshness of the rice. The mother smiled at Rika who was practically beaming with pride at the compliments.

"I made them with all my heart!" The little girl affirmed with a nod.

"And I am sure you made a mess out of the kitchen getting those from the fridge. Please go back in there and clean up." The woman pointed to the kitchen, and after a bit of whining, Rika obeyed. As soon as her daughter was out of earshot, the woman leant in closer to Sanji, her expression turning grave and worried.

"When you said you were looking for him, what did you mean?" The woman asked worriedly, her voice hushed and urgent. "He was such a good person, has something bad happened to him?"

Sanji clasped the woman's hand gently and gave it a kiss. He couldn't possibly tell them he'd found their favorite customer practically sliced in half in an alley. Her expression was a little confused as she waited anxiously for an answer. Sanji wasn't used to lying to ladies, but this was a white lie. He would hate to see her worry for the moss-headed bastard.

"Do not worry madam, I've simply lost contact with him and want to know if he's still around." Sanji soothed the woman, who was visibly relieved. Rika appeared again, climbing up into her chair and taking her place at the bakery register.

"Thank goodness." The woman sighed as she withdrew her hand shyly. "Rika is very attached to him. If you find him, please ask him to visit again." The woman smiled to someone behind Sanji. The blond turned and realized a small line of people had formed behind him.

Of course, this was a store. He stepped to the side with a small apologetic bow to the woman.

"Of course madam, even if I don't find him, I'll definitely visit again." Sanji smiled to Rika when she worryingly pushed the box of rice balls towards him. "-And you little miss, I hope to see you soon as well." He picked the box of the counter, feeling the weight of over-boiled rice press into his injured palm.

"BYE BYE!" Rika waved cheerfully, and Sanji left the store with a wide smile to the adorable little girl. The moment he turned a corner, he felt the sickening dread settle in his chest. He'd lied again, this time to a lovely lady and a cute little girl. Sanji felt terrible, walking down the street and holding the container he'd been entrusted with.

His one and only clue had been that store. Now he was back at square one. Well, almost. He had some rice balls made with love now and according to those nice people the bastard he'd saved wasn't really that big of a bastard. So at least he had that to console himself with.

Sanji lit himself a cigarette as he headed home, wondering sadly if he could ever show himself in that lovely store again.

* * *

When Sanji got home, his front door was still locked, meaning that the Marimo was probably still inside. He cautiously shouldered the door open, sticking his nose through the door as he peeked around for his unwanted visitor.

Soft snores reached Sanji's ears and the blond sighed, entering his apartment fully and locking the door behind him. The man was still sleeping exactly how Sanji had left him, buried in a blanket up to his chin and drooling inelegantly on the armrest. The blond tip-toed to the couch, bent down and pulled the blanket off the man.

The wound was still there. Very real and very large. Sanji sighed and put the blanket back, making sure the fabric wasn't soaking up any blood. The man's pulse was healthy and his skin was slowly gaining life. Sanji could see some marks from sunburn; apparently the bastard had been bleeding his guts out on the ground for a while before Sanji found him.

It really was a miracle this guy was alive. It was almost suspicious. Sanji walked as soundlessly into the kitchen as he could, placing the precious rice balls into the fridge to preserve them. He had no idea what to do with them.

He didn't like to waste food, but those rice balls hadn't been made for him. They had been specifically made with lots of love for the smelly bastard currently drooling on his couch. It felt like a waste really, Sanji had always dreamed about receiving something hand made with love. Although, in his dreams it was always from a sexy lady, not a little girl.

Trying to cook dinner without making a lot of noise was much harder than Sanji expected, even with all his skill and training, the appliances seemed to be drawn to each other, clanging and crashing at every change they got. Sanji felt like he was making an incredible amount of noise, but the bastard still slept like a log.

Maybe he was comatose? Sanji's curled brow furrowed as he stirred up some eggs to go with his rice. Sanji didn't want to be stuck with that! He didn't even know the guy, people in comas needed nutrition in their veins and sponge baths and things like that!

No way was Sanji going to do all that stuff for someone he didn't even know! He didn't even know how! This wasn't good. He really should take him to a hospital. The only proper hospital in the area was that damn private clinic owned by Wapol.

You needed a lot of money to use that, money Sanji didn't have. Besides, if they called the police, he'd be in serious trouble when he couldn't give them his 'friend''s name.

Sanji sighed as he served his dinner on a plate, garnishing the plate for no one but himself to enjoy. He had to look up the signs of a coma online while he ate. Did comatose people snore? Sanji sat down in his chair opposite the occupied couch. He pulled up his computer and started looking up "comas" and relevant things as he ate.

The snores eventually faded into the background, mixing with the white noise of the apartment.. When the cook finished off his plate he had found information useful to deduce if the Marimo-bastard was really comatose.

He pushed his plate aside, crouching by the man's head and clearing his throat slightly. "Can you hear me?" Sanji asked as clearly as he could, watching the man's eyes for any movement. The man didn't answer, so Sanji checked his computer for the next test.

"… Breathing pattern?" Sanji examined the man's breathing; it was still normal and rhythmic. That was a good sign. "Gag reflex and temperature? Rectal is most accurate-" Sanji shuddered as he shook his head. He wasn't going to check that.

"Painful stimuli-" Sanji read and turned back to the man sleeping on his couch. He pulled the blanket off, eyes instantly glued to the massive wound across the man's chest. If Sanji hadn't patched the tissue together himself, he'd think it was fake. It really did look like someone tried to cleave him in two.

How could he apply pain to someone who practically got cut in half hours ago? Sanji got onto his knees besides the man, grabbing his wrist and bending the limp arm at the elbow. The man's hand was big; it looked extra thick next to Sanji's slender well-kept fingers.

Sanji's hands were his life, his tools for cooking. Before today, he'd never suffered a bad injury on his hands. This guy's hands were thick and muscular and calloused. There were scars on various places, some of them deeper than others. This guy had probably never used a moisturizer in his life.

The blond decided to try subtle pain first, so he pinched the man in the forearm. He started softly and slowly added force until the man's skin turned red. Sanji watched the man for any sign of discomfort. None.

Sanji sighed and let go of the man's arm, watching it fall limp beside him. He could try one last thing before he moved onto other exams. Sanji went to his first aid kit for rubbing alcohol and cotton.

He tried it on his own injury, hissing in pain at the burning sensation his open wound. He could always try some of this to get a sound out of that guy. It couldn't possibly make his wound any worse after all. Sanji returned, poured liberal amount of rubbing alcohol into a cotton swab and crouched next to the man.

The blond held his breath as he ran the cotton over the line of butterfly bandages, watching the glistening clear line of alcohol bubble in the wound. Sanji's fingers had barely reached the center of the wound when the man's back arched slightly, head tossed back in pain as the man let out a restrained groan.

Sanji yanked back his hand like he'd been burned, watching the man's breathing hasten and get shallower for a few minutes. The butterfly bandages strained from the arch in the man's back and Sanji started freaking out that the wound would open up again. He put the blanket back over the man, rising up and pushing down his shoulders with all his body weight to lessen the strain on the wound.

A few intense seconds later, the man's body relaxed again and his breathing started regulating. Sanji let go of the other man's shoulders, sitting down on the floor and staring as the marimo's furrowed brow eased again. Painful stimuli; check. If this guy was in a coma, it wasn't a very deep one.

Sanji tried a few of the other tests; the man's pupils seemed normal and reacted to the light of Sanji's lamp; when Sanji flicked his nose a few times, the man's brow furrowed in an amusing manner. Sanji returned to his chair, feeling a little more at ease at knowing that this guy wasn't as brain-dead as he looked. According to his responses, the guy could just as well be asleep.

Soon the snores resumed, deep and steady as the apartment slowly got darker and Sanji turned on the TV, absentmindedly watching some old monster movie in black and white. The beautiful lady on the screen yelled in fear of crudely made masks and robotic lizards.

To anyone looking in through the window, it might look like both men were snoring away over the movie, lights from the TV flickering ghostly shapes over the living room. Sanji woke up with a startle to an explosion on TV, unceremoniously falling from his chair.

The blond groaned in pain, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. The living room instantly fell silent, apart from the occasional snore from the man on the couch. Sanji rubbed a tired hand over his face, pinching his temple as he got up. He'd fallen asleep on his chair, he never did that.

Without the light from the TV, the living room was dark, only the faint light from the kitchen lit up the room, casting a strange silhouette on the surroundings. Sanji reached up and clicked a few buttons on his laptop, waking it from sleep mode and checking the time. 4 in the morning. Shit. He'd slept like a log.

He'd been careless, what if the other guy woke up? That lovely lady at the store might have said that this guy was a good person but did good people normally have swords? Why would he need one? Why would he get cut up if he was a good guy?

Sanji reached for the sword, pulling it an inch out of its sheath and looking at his own tired expression reflect in the dim light. He couldn't risk leaving this here, he wouldn't be able to sleep safely that way. It was unlikely that swordsman was going to wake up in the next few hours, but he couldn't gamble with his own life. With is current luck he'd lose.

Sanji was still feeling groggy from his slumber, so he lazily closed his computer and put it away. For a few minutes he stood and held the sword, not sure what to do with it. He decided to hide it for the night. His brain churned through the haze of sleep as he tried to think of a good hiding spot.

He took the sword to his closet, wrapping it into a spare sheet and stuffing it into the back; behind his single box of Christmas decorations and synthetic Christmas tree. As content with the hiding place as he could possibly be in his state of consciousness, Sanji brushed his teeth and went to bed. He locked the door, then unlocked it and locked it again. Just to be safe.

He could still hear the snores coming from the living room. Normally he would have complained over the noise, but honestly he found them rather soothing. Sanji started dozing off, looking at his alarm with his eyes half-lidded and sleepy. How long had it been since he had someone else in his apartment?

The thought fluttered away before Sanji managed to dwell on it, lulled to sleep by the weight of his cover and distant snores of a complete stranger. Maybe the entire day was a dream, it had been so weird.

Sanji fell into a fretful sleep, his hand pulsating with pain in rhythm with his heartbeat. Maybe when he woke up to the click of his alarm, his hand wouldn't be aching anymore.

There wouldn't be any scantily clad policemen on his doorstep.

No hidden sword in his closet.

No stranger on his couch.

No rice balls in his fridge.

No blood in his alley.

* * *

The soft click of Sanji's alarm signaled another day, and the cook drowsily silenced the news anchor with a push of his snooze button. For some reason, he didn't want to get up today. He didn't know why, but he felt like today wasn't going to be a good day.

The sunlight pouring through his window tried to convince him otherwise and as Sanji lay in bed, staring at his alarm and watching his 5 more minutes tick away, he remembered. His hand ached slightly and Sanji brought it up from the cavern of covers, straining his ears for any sign of the other man in his home.

He waited, listening to the roar of early morning traffic outside blend with the steady snores from the living room. The man was still there, snoring in his home. Sanji rolled over to his back, throwing an arm over his eyes as he tried to gather up the mental strength to get out of bed.

Why did he have to check? What had he been expecting to find on the other side of that wall?

Surely someone else would have found him eventually; then he would have been their problem. Someone else would have picked him up and probably taken him to a hospital. Sanji sighed as he raised his hand into the air, looking at his throbbing palm mournfully.

Who was he kidding? No one else would have helped.

From the looks of it, that man had been laying in a pool of his own blood for an hour or two. He might have dragged his sorry carcass down the entire street until he got to that dead end. The Marimo might have passed group of people on his way, glass eyed people who didn't even look in his direction or offer assistance.

People who didn't care if one more person lived or died on these back streets. The same people who didn't glance down Sanji's alley when he was carrying the bloodied body to his home. The people on the other side of that one way mirror in the alleyway that didn't care what happened to complete strangers.

He knew that cold indifferent look all too well.

Sanji kicked off his covers and jumped out of bed, stomping over to his door and ripping it open. He clenched his fists, his injured hand aching sharply as he stormed across the living room, leaning over the other man and grimacing at his snoring face.

"If you die on my couch, I'll cut you up into small pieces and feet you to the cats outside." Sanji hissed venomously, watching the man's peaceful sleeping face with contempt. His life had been so easy and simple before this moron decided to get himself sliced in half at his doorstep.

The man didn't respond in the slightest to Sanji's threats and the blond stuck his tongue out at the swordsman out of spite before he went on with his morning routine. Every time he walked past the couch, he glared at the reason for his growing headache.

He fed the stray cats on his way out, making sure to lock his door securely before going to work. Hopefully when he got home, his apartment would be empty and his life would go back to normal.

* * *

"Hey, Sanji," Carne said with an awkward pat on Sanji's shoulder. "Did you sleep at ALL last night? You look like shit."

"More than usual that is-" Patty agreed, both men watching the irritated blond cautiously as he minced mushrooms with a vengeance.

"Shut up, shitty bastards!" Sanji snarled at his coworkers, gritting his teeth as the knife rubbed into his palm. He was well aware of his mood being terrible and he didn't need the two of them rubbing it in and reminding him why. He was busy trying to come up with an excuse that might sound cool.

_' Actually, Patty, you are right. I didn't sleep well at all. I picked up this sword wielding stranger I found half dead on the street, he's pseudo-comatose on my couch and snores like a fucking tiger. He might be dead when I get home and I have no idea how I'll hide the body.'_

That sounded insane, even to him. Sanji sighed and pushed the mushrooms off the cutting board and into the pot. He was amazed he'd been able to sleep at all, not because of the noise, but because of the fact that there was a STRANGER sleeping on his couch.

"I fell asleep on my chair, so I slept like shit." Sanji grumbled, rubbing his temples tiredly. That was half true at least, he'd actually slept better in his chair than in his bed.

His wound was aching and there was blood starting to work its way through the bandages. He'd have to change them again. "Patty, if you're free, stir this while I go change my bandages." Sanji gestured to the pot, trying to move his aching hand as little as possible.

"Sanji, that's the third time today." Patty grimaced, grabbing Sanji's wrist and twisting it to take a good look at his palm. Sanji hissed and kicked Patty in the shin, freeing himself from the older man's grip. "You should just take it easy, cooking like this is unsanitary you know."

"That's why I'm using gloves, idiot." Sanji frowned, not happy with being bossed around. He knew what he was doing, he'd been a chef since before the two of them even knew the Baratie existed! Sadly, Patty was right, he wasn't in any condition to cook.

The idea alone hurt, cooking was what he loved doing. That bastard Fullbody! How DARE he! Sanji should have broken all his bones. If he was lucky, he might run into the bastard on the street, then he could break his nose twice!

"I'll be back after a smoke." Sanji couldn't help but wonder if that Marimo sleeping on his couch did something to piss off his attacker. It was hard to imagine what he could have done to deserve being sliced in two.

After changing his bandages under a disapproving glare from Zeff, Sanji didn't feel like going anywhere near the exit. He had a feeling that if he left the restaurant, Zeff wouldn't let him inside again. He really didn't want to go back home early today; there was nothing waiting for him at home but trouble.

Maybe the bastard was awake; that would be nice. Even nicer if he'd get his sorry ass out of Sanji's life, too. Sanji walked out onto the balcony on the second floor, leaning over the railing as he lit himself a cigarette. Damn, he should have added _'take the rice balls in the fridge with you'_ on the note.

Sanji sighed, hoping that the Marimo was well enough to stand in a single day was unrealistic to say the least. Those injuries weren't something to take lightly, maybe he should have wrapped them in gauze before he left. Sanji shrugged, he could do that when he got home.

Sanji watched the traffic whiz by as he waited for the worst of his pain to subside. He would've liked a couple of pain killers, but those were being guarded by Zeff. If the old man heard that Sanji's hand was still aching, he'd try to send him home again.

Sanji grimaced as he watched a sleek red car park at the side of the restaurant right below him. Those were employee-only parking spaces damn it. Sanji stubbed out his cigarette, leaning over to yell at the guy who just stepped out of the car. It was a strange man with blue rimmed glasses and a weird hairstyle.

Sanji tilted his head to the side, his anger slowly fading as he tried to see what exactly the hair was supposed to look like. Sideways M? A 3? W? Why?

"Hey, bastard." Sanji yelled down from the second floor, catching the attention of the man below. "You can't park there. That's employees only."

"Oh. I'm not a customer, I'm here on work related errands." The man raised a badge, flashing it up to Sanji. It was hard to tell from the distance, but Sanji was sure that it looked familiar. "I'm the health and safety inspector, I was told by a critic that you served bugs in your soup and I came to investigate."

Sanji felt like his blood was boiling in his veins, his hands gripped the railing of the balcony as he glared down at the man, hoping that a car from oncoming traffic smeared him across the parking lot. Fullbody had sent that health inspector!

This wasn't good, judging from the shit-eating grin on the man's face he wasn't here to INSPECT shit. He was here to bring down the Baratie, bugs or no bugs. The man grinned victoriously as he tucked his badge back into his pocket.

"I certainly hope that there won't be any violent incidents today." The man said smugly, walking around his car and towards the entrance. "Violent staff would pose a great safety hazard after all."

Sanji watched the man enter the restaurant, listening to the doors he had helped paint slam shut behind him. He could feel the tension in the air and his body was vibrating with energy. Damn it. Damn it all! Even if he called the police, he didn't have any proof of this man's obvious corruption.

The police wouldn't believe him, not after what happened yesterday. Not with both this guy's and Fullbody's word against his! Sanji started pacing the balcony, fists buried deep in his pockets as he thought of a way out of this predicament.

He needed evidence. Something tangible he could use in court or even to blackmail that damn health inspector. Sanji fidgeted for a minute or two, staring down at the obnoxious red car below.

Well, he was already on the wrong side of the law.

Sanji stubbed out his cigarette, looking around shortly before he jumped over the edge of the balcony with cat-like agility, landing crouched next to the car. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but as long as it was incriminating evidence, the Baratie still had a chance.

The car was locked with a power lock, but Sanji had enough experience breaking into his old man's car to make short work of it. A single hooked wire and some luck was all it took. Sanji held his breath as he pulled the door open, waiting for the alarm to go off.

The car didn't seem to be equipped with an alarm, much to Sanji's delight as the cook started looking around the car for some incriminating evidence. If he had to become a criminal to bust a criminal, then so be it. The Baratie was more important.

Sanji searched the entire car, finding a few particularly suspicious pieces of papers with names of various restaurants in the glove box. He took a picture of the papers for reference. Now all he had to do was check if any of those restaurants were still in business and he might have his evidence. He was about to get the hell out of the car before he got into real trouble, when he heard a phone ring.

It was low, more like the sound of the phone vibrating against the leather seats than the actual ring tone. Sanji carefully picked up the small electrical device, looking at the screen to find the caller ID to be 'private'.

Sanji froze as he stared at the phone, the ringtone was gradually growing louder in his hands, the vibrations demanding and urgent. A few of the passerby were looking in his direction. Probably wondering why he wasn't answering his phone.

Sanji wasn't sure why he did it, his brain flew into a panic and he clicked the answer button, bringing the phone up to his ear as his mouth subconsciously spouted the first things that came to mind.

"Hello? Who is this?"

There was silence on the other end of the line and Sanji started to mentally freak out. Hopefully the person on the other line would think it was the wrong number and hang up. Then he could toss the phone away and get out of this place before that health inspector got back.

"Don't 'hello' me you asshole, I'm in no mood for this bullshit." The gruff and low voice broke the silence, the tone hateful and contemptuous. "It has been three days without a report. Have you finished off that damn restaurant already?"

A cold chill ran up Sanji's back. He was so screwed.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

The giant leap in quality is all thanks to **VioletClockworker**, the beta for this story!

It's time to add some Marimo-spice into this damn thing, don't you think? C:

Anything you giggled at in this chapter? Pass me a note below if you thought something stands out as your favorite part of the chapter!


	4. Police

**Chapter 4: Police**

* * *

Sanji could feel the sweat forming in his palms itch at his cut. There was nothing but the impatient tapping of fingers on a desk on the other end of the line and Sanji could feel the weight of the silence in the air. The traffic seemed blaringly loud around him and his own heart was thumping like a bass drum in his chest.

"What's with the silence?" The voice demanded, dangerous and calm. "I want a report right now, Mr.3."

Sanji squirmed half inside the car he had broken into, biting his lower lip nervously as he tried to think of a way out of this terrible situation. The 'health inspector' might return any minute now; Sanji was breaking at least three laws!

"Mr.3-" The voice began again, suspicion high and the words even more intimidating than before. Sanji's brain went to overdrive and all his preservation instincts went wild. So he did the most logical thing in this situation. He lied.

"-Ah, sorry about that Boss." Sanji began again, trying his best to intimidate the annoying accent he'd noticed the other man sporting. "There were some people eavesdropping, but it's safe to talk now."

"Give me a report. Now." The man said with a little less suspicion, but the agitation in his tone was thick. Sanji could hear a chair creak on the other end of the line and expensive sounding glass clinking together.

"Ah, yes. Everything is going according to plan." Sanji lied as smoothly as he could, deciding that if he was going to lie to this mysterious boss guy, he might as well tell him what he wanted to hear. He wasn't the one who would have to face his wrath if it wasn't correct. He just really needed him OFF the phone so he could run away.

"So the construction will go as planned?" The voice asked with an ominously delighted tone that sent shivers crawling up Sanji's spine like a thousand centipedes.

Construction!? This was the guy behind the hotel!? Sanji glanced over his shoulder at the construction site towering over the Baratie. Now that he thought about it, there hadn't been a single sound from it all morning.

"Yes. Of course." Sanji lied fluently, hoping against hope that he wasn't telling the truth.

"It better." The voice said with a raspy groan and creak of leather.

Sanji's breathing was starting to regulate again, the man on the other end of the phone sounded satisfied, hopefully he'd hang up now.

"We're going to start the second phase of the plan very soon. Return to base for briefing."

Sanji froze in terror. There was a plan? A conspiracy going on? What was he getting himself into here? The silence stretched on and Sanji tried to keep his voice as even as possible.

"Y-yes. Immediately." The blond managed to say in his best faux accent. The man hung up, and Sanji could feel relief wash over him like a tidal wave. He wiped his fingerprints off the phone hurriedly and tossed it back into the car like it was poisonous.

He left the car as fast as possible, wiping his prints of everything he could remember touching as he backed away. He could feel the adrenaline bubbling in his veins and his pulse was throbbing in his injured palm. He was in way over his head.

Sanji clutched at his chest, trying to still his aching heart as he fumbled for his cigarettes. Whatever he just got himself involved in couldn't be good. He felt sick to his stomach. He'd need to lay low for a while, he was alone in this entire mess after all.

When Sanji finally managed to light up his cigarette with a trembling hand, he rounded a corner to the Baratie's main entrance. His cigarette fell from his lips in shock as he noticed the two police cars parked outside the restaurant.

What happened? Did they really see him break into the car?! Were they here to take him off to jail? He was too handsome to go to jail! Or maybe they found that Marimo bastard on his couch! Or maybe they realized he had been lying to them. Or maybe Fullbody was going to sue him! Or maybe Zeff kicked the health inspector or-

Sanji realized there was a LOT of things the police could arrest him for. Did this mean he was a criminal? The cook picked up his cigarette and walked towards the crowd.

A large man smoking several cigars turned to Sanji and beckoned him over with his hand; nonexistent eyebrow lowering suspiciously at the sight of Sanji's nervous form. Sanji forced himself to remain calm, and he walked towards the police officer he'd blatantly lied to yesterday.

Sanji was mentally freaking out. He'd been breaking into a car, photographing official documents, answering a stranger's phone and impersonating a government official just around the corner from several police officers!

"Ah. Sanji, wasn't it?" The police officer said in a gruff tone, cigar bouncing on his lips as he fixed Sanji with his soul-searching glare." Your hand?"

"It's... better. I'm not being a lot of help, but I'm working." Sanji said casually, raising his bandaged palm to show the bare-chested man before him. Sanji glanced to the police cars, worried he'd see Zeff sitting in the back seat of one of them.

Several of the chefs were standing by a police car, answering questions that a lovely female officer filled out to the best of her ability. A couple of men he'd never seen before stood by the car, apparently complaining over something.

"What's going on here?" Sanji asked casually, desperately hoping that the man wasn't going to ask what a dead body was doing on his couch. "Is something wrong?"

"You might say that." Smoker said casually, gesturing to the large crane hovering in the air above the Baratie. He held out a notebook, clicking his pen demandingly as he turned to Sanji. "Yesterday morning, did you see or hear anything out of the ordinary in this construction site?"

Sanji hesitated, thinking back to the morning before when his life had been simple, void of problems, strangers and the idea of hiding a comatose swordsman in his apartment would have been laughable.

"Nothing really weird." Sanji said with an unsure tone, not brining himself to look the police officer in the eyes with all of his recent crimes staining his conscience. "There were some explosions or something and then silence. It was nice." Sanji shrugged. Thinking back on it, those sounds had been strange.

"Did you hear any screaming or gunshots?"

Sanji froze in place at that question. What exactly had happened?! The Baratie was his home! Someone got shot within spitting distance of his old bedroom?!

"No, no gunshots" Sanji said honestly, looking up at the police officer with a decisive nod. "I was working so I didn't pay it a lot of attention. What's going on? Someone was shot?"

"We're not sure." The police officer said with a sigh, tucking the notebook back into his pocket. "This morning there was a lot of blood around the construction site, so there might have been a fight or even a murder."

Sanji stared at the police officer in shock. Murder!? Right behind his old house!? Sanji's shock was so great that he barely noticed when the lovely female police officer joined them. She held a small clip-board and adjusted her glasses cutely.

"Captain Smoker, according to the Galley-La workers, yesterday was an off day because they were waiting for the cement to properly harden." Sanji tore his eyes away from the woman's cute button nose to glance at the frustrated men scratching their heads by the police cars.

"Alright, get permission from the higher ups." Smoker said roughly, pointing the woman to the car as he turned to the small army of police officers. "Listen! The construction site is officially a crime scene! No one is to enter the area without permission." The cigar smoke wafted lazily thought the air as the police officer turned to the Galley-La workers. "I'll need your cooperation in identifying any recently poured cement."

"What for?" A lean man with a long square nose asked worryingly, tugging at his high collar coat as he spoke. "That's a lot of area , we need to get to work-"

"We will be breaking every single inch apart to search for any human remains." Smoker said bluntly, the people that had gathered around the police cars gasping in shock. The Galley-La workers seemed upset at this turn of events.

A worker with slicked back blond hair elbowed his way past various police officers, cigar dangling from his lips as he made his way towards Smoker. There were cigars decorating the side of the man's jacket just like Smoker's. Was there a special store that sold these jackets?

"We have a schedule to keep! Give us a break, why would there be a body in our cement!?" The man practically begged the police officer, waving his hands in the air in exasperation, "And zip up your jacket! You're indecent!"

Sanji took this opportunity to back slowly into the restaurant, head spinning with information as he tuned out Smoker's objections and explanations.

This bloodied construction site was probably connected to the Marimo. But was it Marimo's blood they had found or the blood of someone he had fought? Maybe the Marimo hid his opponent's remains in concrete like Smoker thought? Or maybe the Marimo had been left at the construction site to be stuffed into concrete? Either way, this was bad, very bad.

Sanji couldn't just leave and go home; the moss-brain was probably still comatose and if the police followed him home they might get suspicious. Sanji was trapped until the end of his work day; hopefully that damn stripper-cop would leave him alone.

The inside of the Baratie was also crawling with police officers, most of them were bothering the customers with questions and others were searching the staff room and the exit leading to the construction site with a black light, probably looking for blood or traces that a criminal escaped through the restaurant.

The 'health inspector' looked extremely uncomfortable, he was being questioned by a police officer and Sanji could see him getting paler by the second. Sanji tip toed around a corner, pretending to stack glasses as he listened in on the conversation.

"-and have you found anything unsanitary? If you have, we'd like to investigate it for clues," the police officer asked calmly, holding out his notebook.

"Ah. No, I haven't... found anything." the 'health inspector', Mr.3 said hesitantly and Sanji listened to the police officer scribble something on his papers. This was great! Because of the police Mr.3 couldn't make a false report or lie about the health status of the Baratie! If he did, the police would bust him!

"Alright then. If you have finished here, you are free to go." The police officer said, waving off the corrupted official with a cheerful smile. Mr.3 smiled back awkwardly, walking out of the restaurant with his metaphorical tail between his legs. Sanji could swear that his bizarre hair-style looked a little less energetic.

Sanji couldn't contain a grin as he made his way upstairs to the balcony, watching the red car slowly breech the line of curious pedestrians and police officers as Mr.3 drove away. Sanji lit himself a cigarette, leaning onto the railing with a huge grin. He raised his injured fist into the air as he looked up into the clear blue sky.

_Victory._

The rest of the day passed in a blur of relief. The police filed out just after lunch, leaving a mess of dusty footsteps in the dining hall. Sanji made himself useful and gave the Baratie a thorough clean up armed with a mop and bucket. The pain in his hand was slowly dulling and Sanji was hopeful that he'd be able to get some real cooking done tomorrow.

The construction next door had been put on hold, but the sound of jackhammers on concrete and cursing construction workers occasionally echoed through the back door of the Baratie. By the time Sanji's shift was over, the police officers who were tasked with the manual labor in the investigation were busy dragging power tools and other equipment into a large police van.

Sanji bid them good night and told them they were welcome to stop by the Baratie during their lunch breaks if they had the time. The walk home was quiet and relatively uneventful, the streets were buzzing with dinner traffic and the streetlights were just flickering on when Sanji made the turn into his alley.

A few of the cats sat on the half-alley wall, watching him intently with a flick of their ears as he got closer. Sanji rummaged through his pockets for his keys as he eyed the bloodstain on the rebar. Should he do something about the blood? Clean it off? He didn't want to get into any more trouble with the law.

Right now he was knee deep in his troubles and he really didn't want to sink any deeper. Erasing evidence was probably a serious crime. On the other hand, if the police found the blood by the wall, surely they would come and search his apartment.

Sanji's key slid into the lock and the door clicked as he shouldered it open, his eyes widening in horror when he saw the mess that used to be his apartment. Furniture had been flipped, his ashtray was scattered on the floor, his TV was on its side and it looked like every single drawer had been ripped open and its contents scattered on the floor.

The couch that had occupied the Marimo was on its side and facing away from the door.

"H-HEY!" Sanji entered his apartment, adrenaline roaring in his veins as he ran towards the couch. If whoever hurt the Marimo found him he'd probably have finished what he started. He really didn't want to see a gutted body on his floor.

Suddenly Sanji was grabbed from behind, large calloused hand grabbing his mouth and forcing his jaw closed as a knife was lowered to his neck. He watched his own reflection in the blade, noting mentally that this was his FAVORITE vegetable knife. At least it was sharp, It would probably just take a single slice. Relatively painless.

"Where's the sword?" His attacker's gruff voice demanded, knife getting closer to Sanji's throat as he asked. "WHERE?"

Sanji froze up when he tried to place the tone, he mumbled something into the hand that held him, seeing the reflection of the fingers in the knife. Scars, rough skin and a strange bruise on the forearm too; like someone had pinched really hard-

Sanji suddenly remembered where he'd heard that voice before, this was the Marimo! He was alive! Alive, awake and hostile.

"Mhsppfhh-" Sanji spat out between the man's fingers, rolling his eyes in annoyance when he couldn't speak. The knife lowered slightly and Sanji felt the grip on his jaw loosen until the fingers left his skin. He could still feel the hand hovering close, ready to silence him if he started calling for help.

"I hid it." Sanji said as confidently as he could, hearing the other man snarl in annoyance behind him. "-and if you kill me, you'll NEVER find it moss-brain."

The knife lowered at that and Sanji grabbed the opportunity to lash out, swinging his leg around with all his weight and kicking the man behind him in the head. The Marimo raised his arms just in time, blocking the kick with his forearm with a slight stumble backwards.

Sanji was impressed; not many could block this kick without having fought him before. The knife fell to the floor as the guy grabbed onto his leg, twisting it so Sanji had to do a flip to prevent falling over. He yanked his leg backwards, pulling it from the Marimo's grip as he flipped over on his hands and landed in a crouch.

"This is no way to treat your savior, rude bastard!" Sanji hissed indignantly. If this bastard wanted a fight, he'd give it to him. He was pretty pissed about his apartment getting trashed and could use the outlet.

"Savior my ass! I would have been fine without your help!" The man frowned, hands raised in a battle stance as Sanji kicked low to trip him. The man managed to jump, lunging himself at Sanji with arms outstretched threateningly.

"Bullshit! You were practically dead!" Sanji jumped backwards, hoping the idiot would land face first on the floor. The man put out his hands, rolling over into a crouched stance before he sprung up and grabbed Sanji by the wrist. Sanji's injured palm ached as the other man yanked him closer, twisting his arm behind his back in an attempt to overpower him.

Sanji arched his back to get away from the pain, gritting his teeth and refusing to make a sound. The man was standing close to Sanji's back, pinning Sanji's injured hand between them as he continued twisting. Sanji could feel the man's exposed chest against his hand and a pained heavy panting against his ear.

"My sword! Give it back!" The man hissed with a pained groan. Sanji glanced over his shoulder, glaring at the man before he noticed that several of the butterfly bandages had torn loose in the struggle. The wound was opening again and he could feel the heat of blood against his pinned hand.

"H-Hey!" Sanji's eyes went wide when he watched one of the central bandages rip off the bloodied skin. "Stop twisting! Your wound is opening!" Sanji flew into a panic, throwing his head back and slamming it against the man's nose. He could hear the dull thud of his skull hitting the man's forehead, and judging from the pained groan from behind he guessed he'd at least done some damage.

The second the man's grip slackened a little, the blond dropped his weight to his knees, slid his left foot to the outside of the man's right and rotated his hips, effectively slamming the man into the floor and pinning him with a knee in the gut. The man hissed in pain, and Sanji hastily removed his knee from the edge of the man's injury, settling for straddling his hips instead.

The Marimo was half gaping, blood dripping from his nose as he stared wide eyed at Sanji. The cook hurriedly caught the man's neck, holding him flat against the floor as his free hand ghosted over the bloodied bandages over the man's wound.

"Damn it, bastard Marimo," Sanji hissed, attempting to refasten the bandages without luck. "Do you know how much trouble it was to close that damn wound!?" Sanji rubbed his temples as he stood up, oblivious to the shocked expression on the man's face as he turned to the kitchen.

The kitchen was thankfully not a complete mess, the cupboards and drawers were open but nothing had been removed or damaged, same for the fridge. It was probably because the sword was too big to hide in any of them.

Luckily the first aid kit was still where Sanji had left it. He grabbed it and a wet rag before he returned to the living room. The Marimo was sitting on the floor and rubbing at his bleeding nose.

"Is it broken?" Sanji asked casually, crouching next to the man who just threatened his life with a knife.

"No. Just sore." The man said nasally, pinching his nose to stop the bleeding.

"Good." Sanji opened the first aid kit, pulling out the packet of butterfly bandages and peeling one of them off the paper. "Lay down, it's easier to put on if there's no stress on the skin."

The green haired man stared at Sanji suspiciously, wiping blood off his upper lip before obeying. He lay flat on his back on the floor, his dark eyes never leaving Sanji's face as the blond began wiping off the blood and replacing the bandages. The man occasionally winched when Sanji pinched the skin together, closing the wound before he fastened the edges together.

Sanji worked in silence, brow furrowed slightly as he pieced together the other man's chest, occasionally wiping up the blood with the rag. He was relieved that the other man was awake, but at the same time he wasn't quite what he'd expected. Sanji's finger slipped when he was trying to fasten the edge of the butterfly bandage on a slightly bloodied piece of skin, his thumb slid along the wound, pressing down on the cut.

"Ouch, watch it, curly!" The man hissed in pain, raising up to his elbows and snapping Sanji back to reality. The blond frowned, placing a hand on the man's forehead and forcing him back to the floor.

"Stop squirming moss-brain, you'll pull it open again." Sanji finally fastened the last two bandages, wiping the blood from his hands and pulling out gauze from the first aid kit. "Now you can sit up, I'm going to wrap it properly."

"Why are you doing this?" The man frowned, not moving on account of him apparently being impossible to work with. "I don't know you." Those dark eyes were trained on Sanji and the blond felt uncomfortably warm.

"I don't know you either, sit up or I'll break your nose properly this time." Sanji threatened, pulling on the man's shoulder to try to get him to sit up. "Do I really need a reason to help? You're making me regret saving you. Ungrateful bastard."

"If I wasn't hurt and unarmed you would never have floored me." The Marimo grumbled, his eyes travelling from Sanji and over the apartment around them. "I trashed your place and attacked you." He sat up, gaze fixed onto Sanji again as the blond started wrapping the bandages around the man's torso.

"That's why you're such an ungrateful bastard." Sanji grumbled, watching every trip of the bandage around the man's torso drain the roll in his hand and obscure another inch of skin from sight. "Honestly, you should be worshipping me with your ugly face in the dirt for all the trouble I went through for you."

"I never asked you to!" The man snarled, frowning as he yanked the rest of the band aid roll from Sanji's hand and finished wrapping himself up. "Just give me my sword back and I'll never bother you again." The man held out his hand expectantly, like he assumed the blond was carrying it in his pocket.

Sanji thought about it. If he gave this guy the sword back, he'd leave and be out of his life forever. Or at least until the stupid bastard got into a fight, got killed and the police tracked him to Sanji's apartment.

He didn't even have to get into a fight, he'd already opened up his wound once since he woke up, this guy could collapse in the street and bleed to death and the only person the police would be able to connect him to would be Sanji.

"No." Sanji said casually, shrugging and trying his hardest not to glance at the closet where the sword was hidden.

"WHAT?" The man snapped, his expression changing from mellow to murderous in a flash. He reached out and yanked on Sanji's collar, grip trembling with anger. "It's an important family sword, you bastard! You better not have sold it or some shit like that! I'll kill you!"

"I didn't sell it. I have it and it's completely safe." Sanji assured the other man, trying to loosen the vice like grip on his collar. "What I mean is that I won't hand it over until you've healed properly!"

The grip slackened at that, and the other man's eyes seemed to be searching Sanji's expression for something. Fear or any sign of Sanji lying? Whatever it was, the swordsman didn't find it, since he retracted his hand.

"Until I've healed? Why are you so concerned about this?" The man huffed with a grumble, crossing his arms over his chest and then immediately regretting it and unfolding them. Sanji grinned at the idiotic wince in the other man's expression.

"Well, the police saw you crashing on my couch." Sanji decided that he'd tell the truth, he needed this guy to work with him after all. "I told them you were a friend of mine and if you go and die somewhere, they'll might try to pin it on _ME_."

"So, you're holding my sword hostage?"

"I'M DOING NO SUCH THING!"

"So, you're holding ME hostage?"

"YOU'RE NO HOSTAGE!" Sanji huffed, blush staining his cheek at the other man's calm and unimpressed expression. Why had the last few days made him out to be a bad guy? "You can leave whenever you want! But the sword is staying hidden until I'm sure you won't die if you get into a fight!"

"I'm not going to die. I have things I need to do." the man said matter-of-factly, his expression determined. "I can't stay here. I have people that will look for me."

"If you have friends or family that can pick you up, you can go." Sanji said with a matter of fact tone, smiling at the swordsman and holding up his phone. "The moment they come to get you, I'll fetch your sword."

The Marimo went silent, starting absently to the window before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his slightly swollen nose. Then regretted it immediately and groaned when blood started flowing again.

Sanji's eyes softened slightly, taking in the other man's torn expression. "Don't want them to worry?"

"Shut up. This is none of your business anyway." The man shook his head in exasperation, looking around the room as he changed the subject. "Where's my shirt and Haramaki?"

"You mean what was left of your shirt and haramaki?" Sanji sat back on the floor, lighting himself a cigarette as the Marimo stared at him.

"Were they destroyed?" The man asked sheepishly, looking down and touching his chest where the wound was still fresh. "Even the haramaki?"

Sanji frowned at that, the haramaki hadn't been too damaged, but it was ugly, smelly and stained with blood. He really would prefer if he'd never have to see it again, but for all he knew that haramaki could be important to the bastard.

"The shirt is in tatters, but I think that hideous haramaki of yours is safe. It's dirty and bloodied though, I'm not letting you have it back until I've washed it." Sanji said with a disgusted frown, getting to his feet. "I'm going to make dinner now. Put all the furniture where it was before you went berserk and I might be kind and charitable enough to let you have some of my glorious cooking."

"How about you start by asking if I WANT anything to eat?" the man huffed, his grumbling stomach betraying his words. "Why should I want to eat something made by you!?"

"Because I'm a professional Chef, Marimo bastard." Sanji frowned, pointing in the man's direction with his cigarette. "I'll make you a super nutritious dinner that will heal your wound up in no time."

"My name is not _Marimo_, shitty cook." The man's eyes were trained on Sanji as he hauled himself to his feet. He was slightly taller than Sanji, much broader and rougher around the edges. "It's Zoro."

Sanji frowned as he wondered if he should put out his hand for a handshake or something. It felt weird to make proper introductions when they had already fought and argued like this. Zoro, huh? Such a bizarre name. Maybe it was just bizarre because he'd gotten used to calling him Marimo?

"I'm Sanji." The cook said casually, hands in his pockets as he turned to the kitchen to start dinner. Zoro got to work rearranging the furniture, cursing and grumbling under his breath with each drawer and pillow he picked up.

Sanji sighed; he might have actually liked the bastard more when he was comatose.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED.

Special thanks to **VioletClockworker** for being the beta for this story!

So now Zoro is awake! Everyone rejoice!

Any thoughts or parts you especially liked in this chapter? It's going to start getting very interesting very fast now.


	5. Bandages

**Chapter 5 - Bandages**

* * *

Sanji stirred the rice carefully, avoiding aggravating his injured palm as he watched the rice stick together with the other ingredients on the pan. There was a painful pounding in his hand as he added the spice. Since the Marimo hadn't eaten for at least 24 hours, Sanji was making something nutritious, easily digestible and lots of it.

Did he like his food spicy? Salty? Sanji wanted to ask, but he'd look super cool if he forced the other man to break the silence. The smell of the hastily, yet expertly put together dinner filled the apartment, wafting out the open window in the kitchen along with Sanji's cigarette smoke.

Zeff always got mad if he smoked around the food, but cooking and smoking were two of Sanji's greatest joys and he tried to do it at the same time whenever he had the chance. Maybe he should have asked Zoro if he'd mind if he smoked?

Fuck that, this was _his _apartment. Sanji was generously allowing the bastard to stay here until he wasn't about to spill his guts with a single sneeze. The blond sucked on his cigarette, the tip glowed defiantly against the rapidly approaching dark outside.

"I'm finished fixing it up, this lamp is broken though." Zoro said casually, holding up the first thing Sanji bought for his apartment for decoration; a patterned glass lamp with blue swirl pattern. The cook couldn't help but scowl.

"Don't say it like it's none of your business!" Sanji hissed, pointing to the swordsman with his spatula. "That lamp was my favorite! Give it an honorable funeral." Sanji pointed to the trash under the sink, swinging the cupboard open with his toes. He knew everything in his kitchen by heart; he could easily cook with his eyes closed.

"It's not alive." Zoro grumbled, making his way to the kitchen and pulling out the trash. "Is it okay to put it in like this? I'll cut the bag."

Sanji wiggled the cigarette between his lips, stirring in the last of the ingredients and sauce together on the pan. Zoro was standing beside him and Sanji could see the other man's curious and hungry stare at the food sizzling on the pan.

"Hmmm... you're right." The blond said with fake concern, showing off his cooking skills with an expert flip of the pan. "There's an empty shoe box in the closet, put the fragments in there first." Sanji hummed, realizing a second too late that he'd just told the swordsman to open the closet where he hid his sword.

**Shit.**

Sanji's nerves frayed and his shoulders tensed as the swordsman grumbled in annoyance, walking to the closet and sliding it open. The sheet wrapped around the sword was in plain sight, all the swordsman would have to do was pull on it and the sword would be fully visible.

"Is this it?" Zoro asked casually, pulling out an old box that once housed a pair of Sanji's fine shoes.

"Yeah, stuff the vase in there and come eat." Sanji dished out two portions of food, one considerably larger than the other and placed them on the table. He watched the swordsman become thoroughly distracted at the sight of the food.

"Don't tell me what to do." Zoro grumbled, closing the closet door with a smack, none the wiser that the only thing keeping him in Sanji's apartment had been within reach a moment ago. The Marimo made his way to the small kitchen table, hesitating a bit as he stared at the food, caught in some sort of mental debate.

Sanji ignored the other man, sitting on the other side of the table and started eating his own food. He was two mouthfuls into his plate when the other man seemed to reach a decision and sat down, small chair creaking pathetically from his weight. Sanji felt the other man's leg brush against his own under the small table. He withdrew his leg out of the aura of warmth, tucking it around the leg of his own chair.

Sanji looked up, catching Zoro's glance from his plate and directly into his eyes.

"Bon appétit." Sanji said casually, grinning as he gestured to the swordsman's plate with a flourish of his hand.

"It looks more like fried rice to me." Zoro's brow arched as a calloused hand picked up the fork, sticking it like a shovel into the pile of food.

"Shut up! It's French for 'enjoy your meal'!" Sanji hissed, kicking the other man in the shin under the table. "I hope you choke on it; uncultured bastard."

Zoro grinned at that, looking at the pile of food balancing on his fork before he shoveled it into his mouth. Sanji watched in amusement as the other man chewed once, his face freezing up and eyes going wide.

"Like it you bastard?"It was Sanji's turn to grin. The cook leant forward in his chair, resting his chin in his uninjured palm as he grinned smugly at the other man, who looked at him with a dumbfounded expression. Sanji knew it was good and he could see from the shock on the other man's face that the Marimo liked it too.

The swordsman blinked once, chewing carefully a couple of times before he swallowed.

"It's okay." The man shrugged indifferently as he shoveled more food into his mouth. Sanji's temper instantly flared.

"LIKE SHIT IT'S JUST '_OKAY'_!" Sanji barked in outrage, his fork leveled threateningly at the other man. Zoro simply laughed; a low rumbling chuckle with his grinning mouth full of food. There was a devilish look in his eyes as he glanced up at Sanji, who realized he'd been played.

The blond grumbled, sitting back in his chair and eating his food while he occasionally kicked the swordsman under the table. He didn't know this guy, he should feel more uncomfortable having a stranger in his house, but he didn't. He didn't feel uncomfortable at all.

Trading insults with Zoro took his mind off all the other shit going on in his life. Besides, how long had it been since he'd had a nice casual meal with someone else like this? Probably weeks.

Sanji ate slowly, making sure to enjoy every flavor his dish had to offer, while he watched the Marimo practically holding the plate to his mouth, shoveling the food down his throat.

"Are you even tasting it? Bastard." Sanji chastised, watching as the swordsman scraped together the last pieces of rice and placed the completely cleared plate on the table. Not a single rice remained, impressive.

Zoro's sighed contently, carefully patting his stomach and leaning back in his chair. Sanji could feel the other man's ever suspicious eyes on him as he ate. There was awkward silence for a few minutes, and Sanji was trying to think of something to talk about when the swordsman spoke up.

"Why are you doing this?" Zoro leant forward, his tone rough and suspicious. "And don't say you don't need a reason, we both know that's bullshit."

Sanji looked up, meeting Zoro's eyes and feeling a slight chill down his spine. The other man was cold, defensive and suspicious. Nothing like before when he was distracted by food; this side of Zoro was serious and untrusting.

"What is your motive?" Zoro continued, grimacing slightly. "You want me to do something in return, right?" The swordsman was getting more annoyed by every second of Sanji's silence. "-come out and say it already."

Sanji frowned, his fork clattering on his empty plate. Was it really so hard to believe it was because of the goodness of his heart? The blond leant backwards in his chair, lighting himself a cigarette and blowing the smoke into the yellowing kitchen light.

"Since it _obviously_ can't be that I'm just being a decent person, what do you THINK I want?" Sanji challenged, rolling his eyes at the sentiment as he watched the marimo's brow furrow in thought. It was amusing really; the other man was sizing him up with his stare, leaning onto the table like he could take a good look inside Sanji's mind if he got closer.

"It can't be money." Zoro said thoughtfully, arching a brow at the blond. "If it was, you could have just sold me off at the Human Auction House while I was unconscious." Zoro said slowly, watching Sanji's expression for any hints.

Sanji shuddered. It hadn't even crossed his mind at all. The Human Auction House was one of the most despicable places on the entire Grand Line, where human beings were sold like cattle to the highest bidder, stripped of all human rights and treated like objects. He wouldn't even take his worst enemy to the Human Auction House. He wouldn't even take Fullbody there!

"Fuck that." Sanji's jaw tightened defiantly, hatred boiling in his veins. If a slave hunter would have found Zoro, he might not have bothered picking him up because of his injuries. Sanji's knuckles whitened in anger. Zoro's stare darted down to Sanji's trembling fists, the marimo's shoulders easing slightly as he leant back in his seat.

"If you are planning on using me for blackmail or threats you'll be severely disappointed." Zoro continued, waving his hand dismissively at Sanji's arched brow. "You'd just get your ass kicked."

"Oh?" Sanji grinned, his clenched fist loosening slightly and he rotated his crushed filter between his teeth. "Like the way I kicked your ass earlier?"

"Shut up." Zoro grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck and kicking Sanji under the table. "not money or blackmail-" Zoro trailed off, eyes closed as he seemed to go over a mental list of possibilities. "then; sex?"

The casual tone of the question threw Sanji completely off track.

"Who'd want to fuck you, mossy-gorilla?" Sanji huffed, his ears flushing pink as he got up and collected the plates. "I didn't scrape you off the street and bandage you up just to fuck you, what is your problem? Hit your head?"

"Hmmm... that's true, I was unconscious after all. No reason for you to-"

"That's NOT what I meant!" Sanji hissed, feeling sick to his stomach when he realized all those horrible things Zoro was talking about could have happened if he left the swordsman out there.

Someone could have abused him right outside Sanji's door and then left him to die.

"Well why DID you help me?" Zoro grumbled, his expression confused and annoyed. The swordsman ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Because I FELT like it! I didn't want you to DIE!" Sanji snapped at the other man, scooped both plates off the table, setting them into the sink as he tried to calm down his thumping heart. "If you died this close to my apartment, you'd just make trouble for me!"

Sanji started doing the dishes, it only took a few seconds to scrub both of them clean and allow the pan to soak. The cutlery didn't take long at all and by the time it was all set out to dry on the rack Sanji had regained control of his body.

The other man was still looking at him from the kitchen table, he hadn't moved an inch. "So," Zoro started again, perfectly calm as he stood up from the table, looking at Sanji expectantly, "How _do_ you want me to repay you?"

"You don't have to repay me." Sanji grumbled as he wiped his hands dry, "But if you must, how about _'don't die'_?" Sanji snorted, making his way past the Marimo with a shrug, plopping himself down on the couch. Sanji squirmed before he stood up again, turning the cushion over before sitting down properly. Stupid Marimo couldn't even turn the cushion right side up.

"I'm not going to die." Zoro said as he walked into the living room, keeping a relatively safe distance from the other man as he kept staring at him. "I have something I need to do first."

"Yes, yes, good for you." Sanji turned on the TV, flipping through the channels looking for something interesting to watch. Something to take his mind off Zoro. "Oh. There are rice balls in the fridge for you; in a small plastic box. They're sort of old, but if you don't eat every single grain I'll crush your jugular into paste."

"What?" Zoro took a step closer. "I'm not a damn garbage disposal-"

"It's what I want in return for saving your pathetic life." Sanji grumbled as he settled in his chair, legs swung over the arm rest. "Eat the damn rice balls. They are probably good for you."

"Probably?"

Sanji could hear Zoro's voice coming from the kitchen, almost overpowered by the humming of the fridge when the swordsman opened it and disappeared half way inside. Sanji could hear the contents of the fridge rattle as the swordsman fished out the container, closing the fridge too harshly.

"Don't break anything else!" Sanji grumbled, arching his back slightly to watch the swordsman return to the living room with the container and- "Hey! That alcohol isn't for you. I use it for cooking." Sanji grumbled, glaring at the bottle in the swordsman's hands.

"It's for the pain." The infuriating moss-head said without a lick of remorse, pulling the cork from the bottle. "I'll buy another one when you allow me to leave this place."

"I told you, you're not a prisoner!" Sanji snarled, sitting up in his chair to attempt to grab the bottle from the other man's hands. "And you're injured, you'll kill yourself!"

"I told you I'm not going to die." Zoro took a swig from the bottle, downing an inhumanly large portion of the bottle in a couple of gulps as Sanji stared at him in horror. Zoro wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before pausing sheepishly and looking at Sanji. "Did you want some?"

"NOT WHEN YOU DROOLED IN THE BOTTLE!" Sanji snapped, rubbing his temples tiredly and groaning in annoyance. "No. I don't care. Do whatever."

Zoro didn't even attempt to talk the cook into sharing the bottle, pulling the lid of the container and eyeing the slightly stale rice balls squished together. The swordsman arched a brow, picking up the top rice ball and watching as it fell apart around the middle.

Sanji watched silently as the swordsman shrugged and stuffed the half that still stuck together into his mouth, pausing with one of his cheeks slightly swollen with food at the first chew. Zoro looked up at Sanji with a strange mixture of terror and murderous rage.

"Rika made these, not you." Zoro said cautiously, looking up and making eye contact with Sanji. "No one else uses sugar instead of salt." Zoro put down the container and Sanji could see the tension in the other man's body through the bandages.

"I found a bunch of receipts from Shell Town in your wallet and paid them a visit." Sanji said casually, recoiling slightly when he noticed the intense expression on Zoro's face. "I was trying to find some of your friends to dump your comatose ass on and I met Rika. Stop staring at me like that!"

"They are okay then?" Zoro's voice was low and dangerous. "Why did she give you these?"

Sanji squirmed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I told them we were old friends and she gave those to me to deliver to you." Sanji grimaced slightly, lighting himself a cigarette. "I didn't want to tell them I found you half dead in an alley. So I had to tell them something."

Zoro seemed to ease up at that, leaning back in the couch and fishing the remaining rice balls out of the container and stuffing them in his face. "She's improved, these are not bad at all." Zoro hummed thoughtfully, tossing the empty container on the table with a clatter.

"Even when they are seasoned with sugar?" Sanji grimaced, eyeing the empty container approvingly. "Is it physically impossible for you to just say 'It's good'?" Sanji snorted, turning back to the TV absent mindedly.

"You should go tell her she improved yourself. They wanted you to come again." Sanji really didn't understand why such a lovely modest woman and her adorable daughter liked this rude bastard so much.

"I can't." Zoro said with an air of finality, taking another gulp from the bottle and gazing at the TV. Black and white shapes and lights danced across the room, silhouetting the other man's tired looking profile. Sanji glanced out the corner of his eye, watching the other man's somber expression.

Sanji was itching to ask why he couldn't, but he really didn't need any more trouble in his life. He had enough issues himself without getting involved in someone else's problems. It seemed so long ago when his only pressing issue was a comatose stranger on his couch, it was hard to believe that was only yesterday.

"So... are you going to tell me what happened at the construction site?" Sanji serviced his cigarette into the empty ashtray. Where did the Marimo put all the cigarette ash that fell on the floor? "The police are all over it, they're looking for a body in the concrete."

"I don't have to tell you anything." Zoro grumbled, taking another swig from the bottle. Sanji could see a thin line of alcohol drip out the corner or the man's mouth. How old was this guy? And why was he so infuriating? Sanji couldn't deny the fact that he enjoyed the slightly hostile company; he rarely got to argue with someone who had the guts to argue back.

"Well, if you killed someone and stuffed them into wet cement, I think I'd really earned the right to know." Sanji hummed, blowing smoke rings towards the TV, changing the channel lazily without asking for Zoro's permission. "You know, so I can kick your ass and dump you back in that alley."

"I didn't kill anyone. There's no body." Zoro grumbled, turning fully to Sanji with a deadly serious expression, he seemed almost regretful that he hadn't killed someone last night. "There was a fight, but all the blood spilled there is mine."

Sanji stayed silent for a few breaths, watching a toothpaste commercial flicker on screen as he processed the information. The swordsman took another drink from the bottle, staring at the glowing ashes in the ashtray distantly.

"So... it was a total defeat?" Sanji asked teasingly, smirking to the other man who glared at him in return. "You're not very good at this sword-thing, are you, shitty swordsman?"

"Better than you are at cooking, shitty cook!" Zoro snarled, slight flush of anger in his face as he slammed the bottle on the table hard enough to rattle the ashtray. The dark atmosphere was dispelled instantly.

"At least I'm not a stupid plant-head! Do you wash so rarely you've started to sprout moss?!" Sanji turned fully in his chair, the TV forgotten as he crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. This was more like it.

"At least my eyebrow isn't curly!" Zoro leant forward on the table, grabbing onto Sanji's shirt from across the table. His snarl seemed feral but his eyes were shimmering with life.

"Marimo!" Sanji hissed, leaning towards the man and grabbing hold of the other man's wrist, trying to spare his shirt from being pulled. Sanji planted his injured hand in Zoro's face, firmly pushing the man backwards as he arched his back away from him.

"Dartboard-brow!" Zoro huffed and struggled with Sanji's bandaged hand squishing his cheek up to his eye. Zoro's other hand raised and pushed Sanji's face away, while pulling him closer by his shirt.

Both men were locked in a stalemate of awkward shoving and cursing across the table for a while, neither willing to back down and give the other man the satisfaction of this petty victory. They were getting short of breath, hurling insults at each other with giant smug grins.

"Ungrateful je-AH!" Sanji recoiled as far away from Zoro as he could, clutching his injured hand. Zoro let go of Sanji's shirt, watching as the blond tried to shake away the pain while letting out the longest and most colorful string of curses the swordsman had ever heard.

Sanji's palm felt like it was on fire, there was fresh blood staining the bandages and the heavy heartbeat was aching and almost unbearable. His hand! He couldn't lose this hand, his hands were too important!

"What happened?" Zoro asked with an air of concern, tilting his head to try to catch a glimpse of Sanji's palm. "You're injured?"

"Shut up." Sanji hissed, the pain was subsiding but the aching throb was getting worse. "Your face is just so ugly that it burned my hand." Sanji forced a grin, trying to mask his discomfort. His hand was trembling slightly, he really had to go see a doctor if this didn't stop. His hand felt so hot, it also looked more swollen than it had a moment ago.

"Let me see." Zoro held out his own hand, palm up and a serious expression on his face.

"It's nothing." Sanji grumbled, looking at Zoro's hand suspiciously. Letting the other man touch his precious hands was way too intimate for someone who threatened to slit his throat a couple of hours ago. "Besides, I don't know you, why should I let you?"

Zoro arched a brow at that, giving Sanji a rather clear 'are you serious?' gesture to his own bandaged up torso. Sanji grumbled a soft 'touché' as he pulled the bloodied bandages off his palm and placed it in Zoro's hand.

"This isn't from a knife." Zoro oh-so-helpfully pointed out the obvious, earning a roll of Sanji's eyes. "How old is this?"

"Yesterday." Sanji breathed tiredly. "And of course it's not from a blade! You can cut yourself on other things too, sword-maniac." The blond winched when the other man ran a finger along the cut gently, not unlike how Sanji had traced Zoro's injury earlier. It was a little embarrassing how gentle the Marimo was being.

The pressure at the edge of the wound forced out a small amount of blood. Sanji would have yanked his hand back if his pride as a man hadn't stopped him. He wasn't going to appear weak to this bastard.

"How did you get this?" Zoro asked with a frown, as if cutting yourself on something other than a blade was impossible. His hands were excessively warm, the heat was agitating Sanji's skin and he could feel every single callous on the other man's fingers scrape against the hyper sensitive and swollen skin around the cut.

"I was picking up a broken bowl when a bastard stepped on my hand." Sanji grumbled, attempting to withdraw his hand. His face was getting warm too; the situation had changed from playfully hostile to uncomfortably intimate. "It's fine, I've been agitating it by cooking. It'll be fine tomorrow."

Zoro brought Sanji's hand up to his face, dark eyes narrowed as he inspected the wound carefully, pressing around it in slow careful strokes. Sanji winched when a sharp pain lashed up his arm and the blond bit his tongue to hold back a gasp.

"STOP IT!" Sanji snapped out, pulling his hand free and cradling it protectively. "It fucking hurts you shitty bastard!"

"If it hurts that much something's wrong!" Zoro huffed back to Sanji, trying to grab his wrist but the blond flexed and stretched out of reach. "Stop being such a child and-" Zoro struggled, knee on the table as he flailed around for Sanji's bleeding hand.

"It's fine!" Sanji grimaced, stretching as far away as possible to avoid Zoro leaning over him. "Mind your own injuries and stay away from me!"

"I don't want to owe you shit, you curly-idiot." Zoro spat out viciously, reaching out and grabbing Sanji's forearm. The swordsman twisted his hand, forcing Sanji's shoulder back. "So just let me help fix up your injury and we'll be even."

Sanji paused at that. The other man was deadly serious and his grip on Sanji's forearm was starting to really hurt. He could kick Zoro across the room from this angle, Zoro was wide open and Sanji's legs were free. But there was something in the other man's tone that made Sanji give in, the moss-brain did mean well.

"Fine, but only if you wash your filthy hands." Sanji relaxed and leant back on the couch, waiting for Zoro to ease his grip in his arm before he extended it out to the swordsman. "My hands are my treasure; I need them for cooking."

To Sanji's surprise, the swordsman didn't mock him or tease him for treasuring his hands. Instead he walked to the bathroom and Sanji could hear the tap running. Sanji lit himself another cigarette as he waited for the swordsman to come back. When Zoro did, he held his moist and lavender scented hands up to Sanji's face.

"Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Sanji smirked, blowing smoke in Zoro's face playfully. The swordsman grumbled something obscene under his breath, standing up to flip the switch for the living room lights.

"How did you know where the bathroom was?" Sanji asked casually, putting out his hand and trying to change the conversation back to something a little less personal. Zoro reached out for the first aid kit on the floor, sitting down on the coffee table and pulling out tweezers.

"When I woke up, I was busting for a piss." Zoro said with a shrug, ignoring the disgusted twitching of Sanji's nose. He grabbed the blonde's hand and held it up to catch most of the light on the wound. "And then I searched the whole apartment for my sword, of course."

"If by 'searched' you mean '_ransacked_' then yes; you did." Sanji grumbled bitterly, watching nervously as Zoro slid the tweezers along the side of the wound. Sanji tried moving his hand, but the other man was holding onto it so tightly he was almost cutting off circulation.

"Hold still. I see it." Zoro mumbled, holding his breath as he slid the tweezers into the wound. Sanji hissed in pain, feeling pathetic for his weakness when the other man was practically sliced in half and didn't flinch.

Blood started pooling in Sanji's palm, flowing over Zoro's fingers when the swordsman pulled the tweezers back. Sanji pulled back his hand as soon as Zoro's grip loosened, pushing gauze against the wound to stop the bleeding. The drumming ache was gone and Sanji barely winched in pain when he pressed the cotton against the wound.

"How stupid can you be not to notice something that big and sharp buried in your palm?" Zoro dropped the tweezers on the plastic container, a relatively large blood covered shard of white porcelain between the tips. The swordsman got up off the table, sitting back on the couch that Sanji had subconsciously now dubbed as 'Marimo's place'.

"I was too busy patching YOU up!" Sanji spat back, holding antiseptic to his wound and gritting his teeth through the pain. "You're WELCOME, by the way. Asshole."

"Same to you, bastard." Zoro grinned back, tossing the roll of bandage to the cook. Sanji caught the roll with his uninjured hand, unable to hold back a grin of his own.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED!

A chapter focused mostly on Zoro and Sanji being the emotionally volatile dorks they are! Any favorite moments? I have a couple and I'M the writer!

Special thanks to **VioletClockworker** for beta-ing this for me!

-BBB


	6. Evidence

**Chapter 6 - Evidence**

* * *

Sanji woke up to the soft voice of the news anchor. At first it had been annoying, Sanji had been hoping to wake up to music when he set his alarm, wanting to be serenaded into a new day by some lovely female singer's sweet tone. Unfortunately he got up around the news, meaning that various anchors with their dry unenthusiastic monotones were Sanji's _'good morning'_ for the day.

"The drought in the area-" The man continued rambling disinterestedly, silenced when Sanji hit the snooze button and rolled over on his back. Five more minutes. He'd try again, hopefully he'd get a good song to start the day off properly.

The cook stared up at the ceiling, watching the sunlight reflecting off the passing cars dance across the faded paintwork. He could hear Zoro snoring in the living room, loud snarling snores that had kept Sanji up for an hour after they said their awkward good nights.

Sanji stretched out on the bed, flexing and arching his back with a content hum from the back of his throat. He let his arms fall limp on the mattress, taking a deep breath and timing it with the snores coming from the other room.

His hand felt much better now. There was no pounding in the skin, no warmth or sign of infection. Sanji clenched and unclenched it experimentally, spreading his palm open slowly and closing his eyes. No pain. Slight discomfort, but there wasn't any pain.

The alarm started again, this time with the same jingle that always followed the news, and the start of a song Sanji had never heard before. The cook kicked off his covers, yanked his closet open and started assembling a proper wardrobe.

The idiot Marimo had rummaged through his drawers while he searched for his sword, his shirts were all wrinkled now. Sanji grumbled under his breath, picking out the least crumpled shirt and assembling his look for the day accordingly.

Sanji made sure to triple lock the door to the bathroom before he stripped and got in the shower, occasionally sticking his head out of the water to listen for the snores. The Marimo seemed to be a heavy sleeper, since Sanji finished his shower, got dressed and started making breakfast without the snores ever missing a beat.

He was starting to get into a rhythm. Flip the pan. Snore. Pan down. Silence. Open the fridge. Snore. Close the fridge. Silence. Sanji lit himself a cigarette, looking out the window of his small apartment to watch the smoke waft into the sunlight.

Sanji made himself coffee, making sure to brew an extra cup just in case the other man woke up. He made an extra large portion of breakfast, helping himself to the usual amount. The rest was tucked away in Rika's plastic container and stuffed in the fridge.

Sanji sat down in the living room, in the same chair he'd been sitting in yesterday when he spent hours arguing with the Marimo about actresses and special effects. He'd forgotten what movie had started the argument now. He remembered the argument vividly though.

Sanji ate in silence, watching the steady rise and fall of the other man's bandaged chest as he snored. He'd have to remember to leave a note, otherwise the idiot swordsman might not eat breakfast when he got his lazy ass off the couch. Sanji got up and put his plate in the sink, staring at the morning traffic through his window.

_Stupid snoring bastard._

_You snore too loud, I'll break your nose for real next time. _

_Food is in the fridge, heat it in the microwave for 3 minutes on 800 __**(not 1000)**__ and eat it. _

Sanji put the note on the table, taking his cup of coffee with him as he sat at the doorstep, soft snoring behind him and the roar of traffic coming from the street. Sanji lit his second cigarette, waiting for the cats to appear over the wall he'd found Zoro.

The cats gathered around the steps to his apartment, mewling happily as Sanji poured the cat food into the bowl like usually. He'd finished his coffee and put his cup back inside along with the bag when there was a rub against his leg.

One of the cats was marking him, looking up at him expectantly and dropping a half-dead mouse at his feet. Sanji wrinkled his nose, appreciating the gesture but not the gift. He gave the cat a pat on the head with his uninjured hand, the cat pressed happily against his palm and purred.

"That's nice of you, but I really don't need another half-dead body dumped on my doorstep." Sanji hummed in amusement and the cat looked up at him with bizarrely understanding eyes. "So please stop bringing bleeding bastards here." Sanji stood up, noting the even snores from inside before he locked up his door, gingerly picking the mouse up on its tail and dropping it near the trash.

Sanji wiped his hands profusely on his jacket as he walked, absent mindedly smiling to women he passed on the street as his mind reeled nervously. He crushed his cigarette against a trashcan he passed as he walked, hands in his pockets and blank stare at the the cracked pavement he was walking on.

Would Zoro be there when he got home?

He knew it was a long shot, the swordsman could move and Sanji really shouldn't expect the other man to be passive in the whole matter. If he'd woken up bandaged and hungry at Zoro's place, with the swordsman telling him he wasn't allowed to leave, Sanji would have jumped out the window in the rush to get the fuck out of there.

Sanji groaned and rubbed the back of his neck when he made his way past the Galley-La workers and tired looking police officers who were preparing to break apart concrete in search of bodies that weren't there. Sanji put on his work clothes, his apron and washed his hands.

Maybe Zoro thought he was really a total creep? Sanji wasn't expecting the man to do as he was told, Sanji HAD managed to floor Zoro yesterday, so maybe the swordsman had just been waiting to slip out when Sanji couldn't follow?

Did Zoro really think Sanji was some sort of creep who was trying to give him Stockholm Syndrome or something? The idiot Marimo had seemed more content at being kept "hostage" than Sanji had expected. He'd also seemed more casual about mentioning the horrible things that could have happened to him if Sanji hadn't picked him up.

Was Zoro used to some sort of abuse? He hadn't even blinked at the mention of the Human Auction House, which was something that most people mentioned with repulsion or fear, or didn't mention it at all. Was Zoro an escaped Slave?

Sanji paled at that, sheltering an escaped Slave was a capital offence. The World Government could have his head for that. Especially if Zoro had belonged to someone important. Sanji felt sick to his stomach at the thought. It would explain Zoro's resistance to pain.

Sanji flexed his bandaged hand, taking a knife and laying it against the wound to see if the pain had really been caused by that shard of glass. The knife felt uncomfortable, but there was no sharp pain, and his hand wasn't bleeding.

Good enough.

Sanji began cooking, taking orders for various breakfast items and ignoring the concerned looks from the other chefs as he kept mulling over his 'guest'. Patty and Carne kept giving him suspicious glares.

Zoro didn't have a slave collar or any mark of there ever being a heavy explosive metal ring around his throat. It made no sense to give Zoro a sword if he was a slave, unless the sword was stolen of course. Sanji groaned and ruffled his hair, transferring potatoes to water and setting the heat to medium.

He hadn't seen any mark on the other man when he bandaged him. Then again, he hadn't seen anything below Zoro's belt. Sanji's curled brow furrowed, supposedly the higher ups liked to mark their slaves on the middle of the back. Zoro's back had been completely unharmed and unscarred.

Sanji shook his head, passing two perfectly prepared plates of pancakes to the waiter. This wasn't what he needed to do now. He couldn't get caught up in the Marimo's problems. He had his own issues to resolve before he sank deeper in the shit he'd gotten himself neck deep in.

The blond sat in the doorway for a quick smoke break, watching the construction site behind the Baratie loom over him and cast strange shrinking shadows over the alley he sat in. It would be nice if the construction was put off forever, hopefully the investigation would go on for a long time. The silence was nice.

Sanji couldn't help but wonder if he'd upset the plans of that mysterious boss by giving him a false report. He'd said something about a 'second phase', so maybe there was something more going on with that hotel than Sanji had assumed.

The blond flicked the ashes of his cigarette casually as he stared up at the crane, watching it creak above the Baratie like the blade of a guillotine. If this _Boss _needed the Baratie out of business to be able to put the 'second phase' into action, he wasn't going to give up so easily. The Baratie was in serious danger and Sanji was the only one who knew about it.

There was no way just politely refusing to sell the restaurant was going to be enough here. The longer they refuse, the more dangerous it will become. He'd already sent corrupted health inspectors and critics, what next? Setting the restaurant on fire?

Sanji winced at the idea. That was very possible. There had been a number of freak arson cases around the Grand Line recently. Usually the charred remains were bought the day after and demolished. A while back there had been a small pet food store that got burned to the ground in broad daylight and earlier this month, a restaurant was set on fire around midnight.

Sanji's eyes widened as he hurriedly scrambled for his phone, opening the photo-gallery and zooming in on the papers he'd found in 'Mr.3's car. He slid his finger across the screen, zooming in and turning his phone to take a better look at the names of the restaurants.

There it was. At the top of the list, with a long black line dragged across it- the name of the restaurant that burned.

Sanji's blood ran cold and he was overly aware of his surroundings as he stared at his phone. He had to do something. ANYTHING. He couldn't let the old man's dream burn, possibly in the middle of the night when Zeff was asleep on the top floor. Damn it, if this _boss _was as sinister as he seemed, he might not ever CARE that there were people asleep in there when the restaurant was set on fire!

Sanji was trembling now, his mouth was dry and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He lit himself a fresh cigarette, hoping it would relax his nerves. Shit. What could he do? He didn't have any evidence, and even if he showed the police the list of restaurants, that wasn't enough.

Besides, then he'd have to tell them he broke into Mr.3's car. That probably wouldn't go over well.

The blond ruffled his hair in desperation; he needed real evidence. Something he could take to the police. It would help to know who exactly this _boss _guy was, he could start with that. Sanji got up, giving a long exhale of smoke and glaring at the construction site.

"Stop slacking off! It's almost lunch time." Patty appeared in the doorway, oversized hands on his tiny hips as he grimaced at the assistant head-chef. Sanji grumbled, crushed his secondary cigarette reluctantly under his foot and got to his feet.

"Yeah, yeah." Sanji sighed, kicking the stub into the dirt besides the door. There was a small pile of cigarette stubs there. They cleaned them up once a week. Sanji was sure at least half of them were his alone. Maybe he should try cutting back a little.

"Sanji, are you okay?" Patty's large hand came down on Sanji's shoulder, holding him still in the doorway. The blond looked up at his coworker, trying to see if it was genuine concern of if the other man was going to make fun of him somehow.

"I'm fine. Didn't sleep much." Sanji brushed off Patty's hand, hoping that the anxious energy could be excused as sleep depravity. Sanji was hoping he'd be able to do something about this conspiracy scheme he'd stumbled into without anyone of the Baratie ever finding out. Especially Zeff. The old man shouldn't have to deal with any more stress and problems than he absolutely had to.

"Is that guy sleeping at your house keeping you up all night?"

"Nah, it's not that bad." Sanji answered absently before freezing up and turning on his heel, yanking Patty down on his collar. His hand ached at the effort, but he could barely feel it through the panic. "HOW?"

"T-that police officer with the cigars-" Patty seemed torn between terror and amusement, causing his face to look more constipated than usual. "He asked us about you. Carne mentioned you were a womanizer with no friends outside of work, and then he asked who was staying at your house-"

"I have friends outside of work!" Sanji snapped by instinct, his skin paler than usual. Was Smoker suspecting him? Maybe he was already under surveillance. Had they seen Zoro and him fight last night?

This wasn't good. Not good at all. He had to get home. He had to coordinate his story with Zoro or else he'd be suspicious. He felt sick to his stomach. He wasn't good at lying. He really wasn't good at lying. He'd always had issues with controlling his emotions, it was one of the reasons he never played poker.

"Sanji?" Patty snapped his obnoxious sausage fingers in front of Sanji's face for attention, waving across his line of sight for good measure. "If you really think we care if you have a boyfriend-"

"WHAT?" Sanji snapped, face reddened when he realized how loud he'd been. The other chefs were looking at them curiously, eyebrows raised in interest when Sanji lowered his voice. His cheeks were burning. "I'm a MAN." Sanji hissed at Patty, who arched a strangely well groomed eyebrow.

"What does that have to do with anything?" The other man asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

"Everything?" Sanji groaned and rubbed his temples, wondering how he should explain this so there wouldn't be any misunderstanding. "I was born to love the ladies. I don't have a boyfriend and never will." Sanji eventually sighed, trying to ignore the barely concealed exchange of cash between a couple of chefs out the corner of his eye.

"Well. At least you made a friend then." Patty snorted, turning back to his station. "It made the old man happy to hear you were at least socializing outside of work. I still don't get why you would keep it a secret."

Sanji shook his head in disbelief, storming over to his work station and furiously scrubbing carrots. Damn that Patty, bringing up these things in the middle of the workplace! Now all the other chefs would start spreading rumors and scare away all the lovely ladies that frequented the Baratie!

Certainly he'd _ogled_ a male customer or two; nothing wrong with looking after all. Perhaps he'd even had a drink with a friendly man who also happened to be handsome and very talented with his mouth. Just one kiss of course.

It was healthy to experiment at his age. He hadn't enjoyed it or anything. Even if he had, that didn't mean he was GAY.

This was NOT the time or the place to worry about petty things like kissing handsome men. Sanji sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, inhaling deeply as he added _'possibly under police surveillance '_ and _'Zeff probably thinks I'm gay'_ onto his mental tally of things wrong with his life.

The most pressing matter right now was the impending doom of the Baratie at the hands of some sort of corrupted businessman. Possibly someone connected to the criminal underworld in the Grand Line that sounded like a phone-sex porn star. Not that he'd found the voice attractive or anything.

It was very unlikely that this _boss _would take the chances of setting the Baratie on fire with the police all over the construction site next door. Zeff had been complaining about feeling like he was under house arrest since they set up shifts and security cameras. Hopefully this meant the Baratie was safe for now.

He'd have to thank Zoro for almost getting his ass sliced in two back there.

He needed evidence and a way out of this nightmare. He could start out by finding out who was the owner of the construction site. Zeff probably knew, he'd had at least three offers to sell the restaurant the past month.

Sanji knocked softly on the door to the old man's room, waiting for the welcoming huff and tap of wooden leg on floor that meant Zeff was up. Sanji opened the door, slipping inside and sitting down on the usual desk chair with the back against his chest. He rested his arms on the brink of the back, looking at the old man that had raised him for most of his life.

"Shitty Eggplant, shouldn't you be working?" Zeff's tone sounded annoyed, but he reached a calloused hand out for Sanji's injured hand. "Need new bandages?"

"Nah, I'm fine geezer." Sanji nudged forward on the chair, placing his hand in Zeff's with his palm up to let the old man untie his bandages and inspect the wound. "There was a piece of glass stuck in there, I got it out last night."

Zeff made a thoughtful noise at the back of his throat, pressing against the brink of the wound before wrapping it in clean bandages. "That's because you're an idiot. You should notice these things." The old man didn't protest when Sanji lit a cigarette, both men enjoying each other's company in silence.

"Hey." Sanji said as he exhaled smoke into the air, retracting his hand when Zeff finished wrapping it up. "Who's the guy who wants to buy the Baratie so badly?" Sanji was hoping this question sounded casual enough, he didn't want Zeff to get involved in case this whole thing blew up.

"Why do you ask, shitty little Eggplant?" Zeff was staring at Sanji, eyes drilling into his skull with parental knowing. There was no way he'd be able to keep everything secret from this old man. The bastard knew Sanji better than anyone else.

"Just curious. You've refused to tell anyone about it, you always say 'someone'." Sanji lied as fluently as possible, busying his hands with his cigarette and flicking the ashes into an empty glass of water. "He might not want the Baratie anymore now that there has been murder or something next door."

Zeff leant back on the bed with a creak, propped up against the wall with a pillow to shield his back. Sanji waited anxiously, wishing that Zeff would at least break that knowing stare for a second. Hands were folded over Zeff's chest, mustache twitching slightly when the old man's lips parted in a soft smirk.

"Alright then, I'll tell you," Zeff said casually, raspy voice full of something devious. Sanji prepared himself, Zeff didn't give anything for free. "If you tell me something in return." Zeff's eyebrows rose innocently, smirk lingering on his face.

"Alright, old man." Sanji grumbled; he'd spent too long playing this game with the old geezer as a child, there was no way out of this other than to play along. No matter what Zeff was going to ask him about, he wasn't telling him anything that might put him in danger. "What do you want to know?"

Zeff hummed again, closing his eyes as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to ask. Sanji groaned and rolled his eyes. Zeff always knew what he wanted to ask, this was why he started this game in the first place. Sanji's foot started tapping impatiently as the silence dragged on, the old man's brow furrowing slightly.

"Who's that man staying at your house?" Zeff eyed Sanji innocently from the bed, fingers twirling teasingly as he grinned at the almost horrified expression on Sanji's face. "Someone special?"

"No!" Sanji ruffled his hair in frustration, trying to hide his blush. "Why does everyone think I'm gay!? That guy is-" Sanji paused, deciding that it might be better to tell Zeff the truth about Zoro at least, he'd feel less terrible about it.

Sanji's shoulders slumped and he flicked the last of his cigarette into the empty glass, rubbing his temples tiredly. "I found him." Sanji sighed, unable to look Zeff in the eye from his embarrassment. "He was injured and hungry. I couldn't leave him in that alley, so I took him in." Sanji braved the old man's gaze, his heart jumping into his throat when he saw his surrogate father's expression.

Pride. Zeff was trying to hide it, but that subtle smile in his eyes and relaxed shoulders were exactly the same as the day Sanji made his first original dish. Zeff had put the thing on the menu instantly, telling Sanji that he better be ready to serve it to the customers. It was the equivalent of a picture on the fridge in terms of pride.

Sanji felt a rush of relief wash over him, his feelings spilling out before he could hold his tongue. How Zoro had been suspicious and attacked him at first, how they'd fought and somehow gotten a little friendlier with some insults. How Zoro didn't appreciate his food properly, even if Sanji could tell the Marimo bastard loved it.

Sanji didn't tell Zeff about exactly how lethally injured Zoro had been, he didn't mention the construction site or the sword hidden in Sanji's closet. Nothing that could get the old man in trouble just for knowing. Zeff listened with an amused glint in his eyes, his posture relaxed against the wall as Sanji kept cursing Zoro's rudeness and lack of appreciation for Sanji's heroism.

It felt so good to get this off his chest, for a moment Sanji forgot about all the troubles haunting his life, trying to convince Zeff that Zoro was some sort of barbarian who was raised with no manners. How he snored like a running engine, how he slammed the fridge door. Zoro drank straight from the bottle and didn't even use a coaster when he put the bottle on the table! Barbarian!

"But I don't even know if he'll be home when I get there!" Sanji flailed his arms into the air, the freshly lit cigarette dangling between his lips. "The bastard could have stolen my microwave and ran off!"

Zeff let out an amused laugh, exhaling deep as Sanji's rant came to an end. Sanji felt light and less worried. A little embarrassed as well. He'd never talked about these things with Zeff before.

"Calm yourself, shitty brat." Zeff said affectionately, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and rubbing at his knee. "If you feed a stray once, they always come back. If he left while you were out, I doubt you'll never see him again."

Sanji snorted, flicking the ashes of his cigarette as he eyed the old man's peg leg where it disappeared into the tattered pants. "I'm not sure I want him to come back. I might have gotten myself into a lot of trouble by helping that bastard."

"Sometimes-" Zeff began, getting up with slight difficulty and turning to the door. His face was softer than usual as he rubbed the place where leg-stump met wood. "Making someone's life your problem is the best decision you will ever make."

Sanji's eyes widened as he stared at the man who'd taken him in when he had nothing. Zeff wasn't looking at him, his eyes were fixed at the doorframe. There was silent understanding hanging in the air as Sanji got up, fixed the chair up against the desk and took the makeshift ashtray with him to the door.

"Crocodile." Zeff said slowly, meeting Sanji's eyes when the blond turned to look at him. "That guy who offered to buy the Baratie."

"Crocodile?" Sanji echoed, curled brow furrowed slightly as he tried to place the name. "Isn't he that entrepreneur?" Crocodile was well loved around the first half of the Grand Line. Sanji had caught glimpses of him on TV during interviews and new segments about grand openings of various places.

"I didn't want to tell you about it because I knew you'd try to talk to him." Zeff sighed, walking out the door and heading down the stairs to the kitchen. "He's a powerful man Sanji, lots of people love him and there are rumors floating around him being connected to some very powerful underworld types."

Sanji closed the bedroom door after them, following Zeff down the stairs with his brain churning. He'd need some very solid evidence if he wanted to pin a crime on Crocodile. He couldn't risk the man taking anything to court. With his money, he'd be able to bribe and deal his way through with ease, possibly pinning some terrible crime on Sanji just for laughs.

Crocodile was probably pulling the strings behind this, hiring some people to make sure the restaurants that didn't want to sell were closed down. That _Boss _was probably an underworld boss, hired by Crocodile to do the dirty work.

If Sanji was going to risk going up against someone as powerful and popular as Crocodile, he'd need to be careful not to use his name or phone so they couldn't track him back to the Baratie. He could try to talk to Crocodile himself, pretend to know a lot about his crimes and try to trick a confession out of him.

Sanji shuddered at the thought, he wasn't playing with fire, he was playing with a goddamn inferno here. Crocodile was smart, but Sanji was sure he could be smarter. He needed some time to think about this, there was probably a way to get information on Crocodile's shady dealings with _boss _if he was careful.

He needed some concrete evidence, something that couldn't be questioned. If the police didn't listen, he could go to the tabloids and threaten bad publicity. It would help a lot if he could find out this _boss_'s identity. Getting a picture of a known criminal shaking hands with Crocodile on something would be a huge blow to his public image.

"Hey, Eggplant," Zeff's heavy hand startled Sanji from his thoughts, the old man's face lit up in a small smirk. "How long has it been since you had the weekend off?"

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED.

Thanks to **VioletClockworker** for being an awesome beta!


	7. Numbers

**Chapter 7 - Numbers**

* * *

Sanji found himself walking home from the Baratie before dark for the second day in a row. He cursed under his breath, how dare his coworkers gang up on him like that? Just because some of them hadn't ever seen the Baratie without Sanji in it it didn't mean that they were allowed to SAY it out loud.

He had a life outside of work. sort of. Who cared! He had a debt to pay the old man, and he was going to pay it. Everything else could wait until then. He knew Zeff scoffed at the idea, but Sanji couldn't live with himself if something happened to the old man's dream.

He was sure that Zeff had misunderstood the whole predicament with Zoro. He probably assumed Sanji wanted to go home and spend time with the bastard. No way! He'd never heard about someone taking a day off from work to spend time with their potted plant!

The blond lit himself a cigarette, staring down at the cracked pavement and avoiding stepping on the largest gaps. Since he was officially forbidden from entering the Baratie until Monday, he could just as well try to make the most out of his free time. Sanji sighed, looking over his shoulder at the Baratie and the large construction site looming behind it.

He could get started on collecting information about Crocodile and that BOSS guy. First off he'd go online, see what dirt he could dig up on the surface before he got his ass in any deeper than he had already. His neck was aching and he could feel the nervous tick in his jaw when he thought about the sort of people he was dealing with.

He wasn't sure if he could do this alone. If he messed up just once, he could possibly die. He was risking his life and he had no one he could turn to if the whole thing blew up in his face. He couldn't ask anyone at the Baratie to help him, he didn't want them to risk their lives by getting involved.

Sanji inhaled deeply, swallowing thickly and breathing smoke out his nose. No. He had to do this alone. This was what he had to do to repay the old man, he couldn't risk anyone else getting hurt because of his reckless actions. He'd have to get Zoro out of his life as soon as possible to prevent him getting involved by accident. As soon as the bastard wasn't bleeding all over the place, he'd have to kick him out.

Sanji sighed and rubbed his temples, wondering when exactly so much of his life had started revolving so much around a shitty moss for brains.

Zoro had lost a lot of blood, he'd need some iron-rich food to get him going again. Sanji mentally started putting together the iron-richest foods he could think of into a meal, making a right turn to the shopping district to visit the nearest butcher's shop. He passed multiple cafés and quality organic grocers, eyeing the vegetables and fruit judgmentally as he passed.

The specialty stores were usually closed when he finished work, so he rarely got to choose and evaluate his ingredients personally. Working with quality ingredients precisely chosen with a specific meal in mind wasn't something he bothered doing when he was cooking for just himself.

Sanji grinned, he'd make the swordsman the tastiest and healthiest meal the bastard had ever had, something so good Zoro would HAVE to praise it. Sanji chuckled into his palm as he crushed his cigarette and entered the butcher's shop. He'd have the swordsman on his knees and praising his skills by nightfall! His cooking skills, of course.

* * *

Two hours later Sanji's arms were weighted down by the various bags of meat, vegetables and other delicious carefully picked ingredients. He was making his way out of the wine shop, holding a good bottle of wine to go with his masterpiece when he noticed the stranger that was walking right towards him.

It wasn't the utterly serious expression, shaved head or the bulging muscles that were making Sanji's skin break out in cold sweat; it was the gigantic tattoo on the man's chest that read "**MR.1**". Sanji averted his eyes, hoping that the man wasn't coming after him in the middle of broad daylight.

His heart was thundering in his chest, his hands were shaking from the mix of exhaustion, ache in his palm and the fear that this man, who clearly didn't feel a need to conceal his codename, was here to put an end to his investigation before he'd even begun.

The man was enormous, with Sanji just barely coming up to his collarbone in height. He was looking straight ahead, the people in his path giving him a wide berth as they passed. Sanji did the same, holding his breath as they passed each other, not daring to inhale until the man had passed him by. The heavy scent of steel and expensive fabric clinging to the air and Sanji kept walking, his mind racing.

He could follow this guy. This man was clearly connected to the same Boss as Mr.3 was, following him might yield useful information. Sanji's steps grew slower and slower as he thought about it, not daring to glance over his shoulder and risk looking straight into the other man's eyes. He couldn't miss this chance, he might never have another one like it.

Sanji put down his bags, getting his phone out and pretending to answer it, talking to himself and saying something about forgetting to buy something before he turned around. Less suspicious, and much less embarrassing than turning around on the spot in front of those lovely ladies sitting at the cafe across the street.

He had a look to uphold after all. He grabbed his bags and started walking back the way he came, glancing occasionally up at the man who towered head and shoulders above most of the people on the sidewalk. At least he was easy to follow.

Sanji followed him for a few rows of houses, keeping a safe distance and trying to keep calm. When he got too close to the hulking stranger, he entered a store, hurriedly buying something in a flash of panic at raising suspicion. He was beginning to doubt this idea and considering turning back and going home when the man stopped in front of a building and entered.

A few people exited the building in a slight hurry shortly after, and Sanji started walking faster. He reached the building and glanced up at the large friendly window decorated with stylish swirling letters that spelled out _"Spider's cafe"_.

He could see a few anxious customers sitting inside at small tables, glancing at the large man standing at the counter. The girl at the register wasn't speaking to him, forcing a small smile as the man tapped the counter impatiently. He wasn't waiting for service, that was for certain.

Sanji entered the cafe, putting his bags down at one of the booths and eyeing the man warily. Deciding that it was suspicious not to order anything, Sanji walked to the counter, standing right next to Mr.1 as he flashed the blond girl at the register a friendly smile.

He'd have to keep down the flirting, since he didn't want the other man to notice him. He couldn't afford to raise any attention at this point.

"Good afternoon!" The girl said in a slightly broken friendly tone, glancing awkwardly at Mr.1 who had probably not returned her greeting. Bastard had probably shattered her confidence. "What can I get you?"

"Iced tea, please." Sanji smiled, gesturing to the specific brand he wanted from one of the multiple flavors on the menu. The scorching heat outside had made him thirsty, and he really was in the mood for something cold and refreshing. The girl nodded to him and turned around to make it, leaving Sanji standing by the counter next to Mr.1.

Sanji enjoyed watching the lovely girl at the register create his drink, fighting his urge to break out into hearts and confessions of love like he usually did. Suddenly the door on the right opened up and a lovely woman with densely curled blue hair walked over to where Sanji was standing.

"Daz." The woman said low, tone affectionate as she leant on the counter in front of Mr.1. "Your serious expression is scaring away my customers." The woman offered Sanji a flirtatious wink that almost caused Sanji's self-control to shatter.

"We need to talk…" Mr.1 said gruffly, gesturing with a nod of his head to the room she'd appeared from. "…in private."

The woman sighed tiredly, pushing away from the counter and turning to the girl who was currently adding ice cubes in Sanji's glass and receiving the payment. "Conis, you're in charge, I'm going on my break."

The blond girl's eyes widened slightly as she passed Sanji his drink, nodding hurriedly with small bow. "Yes, manager!" Conis said worriedly as the blue haired manager and Mr.1 disappeared into the back room and the lock clicked softly.

Sanji received his drink awkwardly, turning back to his table and going over the situation in his head. Conis was busying herself with wiping down the counter and acting like this sort of thing was a regular occurrence. He could go and eavesdrop, but if that scary bastard was just here for an afternoon booty-call he really didn't want to spy on that.

Unless Mr.1 was some sort of bastard that was forcing that lovely manager to fulfill his disgusting urges! Sanji's rage started surging as his mind started editing the scene to fit this idea. Conis' terrified expression, that flirtatious wink the manager gave him might even have been a plea for help!

Sanji felt sick in his stomach as he downed a large portion of his drink, pulling up his phone again and making his way to the counter. He couldn't, as a man, let this possible violation against women happen right in front of him!

"Excuse me-" Sanji said with a dramatic bow, gesturing to his table. "Could you please be so kind to watch my bags for just a moment?" Sanji raised his phone with a dramatic gesture. "I need to make a private call."

"O-of course!" Conis smiled, tucking her long blond hair behind her ear shyly. It was almost too much to bear! Oh Mellorine! Such elegance! Sanji tore himself away from the angel at the counter and rushed out of the cafe, searching for a back door or window he could sneak into the back through.

He found the back door, staff entrance left unlocked with an overflowing ashtray besides the potted plant. Sanji swallowed thickly and slipped inside, turning off his phone to prevent it going off at the worst moment. The staff quarters were mostly silent, muffling the sounds coming from the cafe and making it easier to find a good place to spy.

Sanji followed the rumbling rise and fall of bass that could only belong to Mr.1, plastering himself against the wall as he got closer to the door. He peeked in through the keyhole, looking around for the beautiful blue haired manager before he turned the handle, entering the lounge and being greeted by the booming voice of Mr.1 coming from the next room.

"-that's why the boss wants you to keep your eyes open." The man's overly calm voice seemed to echo off the walls, sounding clearly through the half open door at Sanji's side. The blond crouched besides an end table, trying to calm himself down as he strained his ears to listen to the smooth alto of the manager.

"I never trusted Mr.4. He's about as loyal as a cactus, if he's been caught, he'll tell them everything." The woman said in a sinister tone, and Sanji could hear a lighter flick from the other room. "I don't understand why Mr.0 allowed him to join us in the first place. He's the only one above 10th rank without a devil fruit and he can't even follow orders."

Mr.0? That was _boss_? What a lame nickname. Sanji nervously swallowed, everyone in that damn criminal organization had a devil fruit power? He'd never even SEEN a fruit user in person before. Not that he had a lot of chance to meet such dangerous people while he worked all day at the Baratie.

"He's very strong despite his lack of a devil fruit, he's more useful than Mr.3." There were heavy steps in the other room followed by a creak of a chair. "At least when he finally gets to work, he usually finishes his job."

"I feel almost bad for Mr.3." The manager's voice wasn't what Sanji would call sincere, in fact, the careless tone in her voice made his blood run cold. "-but it's because of him we'll have to delay phase 2."

"It's his fault for failing his mission. Mr.0 is not a patient man." There was an intense silence in the lounge and Sanji's paranoia fuelled brain was convinced they were listening for him from the other room. He was about to make a break for it when the man started talking again. "He should have known better than to leave his phone unattended like that."

Sanji felt the burning bile gather in his throat, realizing that they already knew someone else had answered the phone. Had he really gotten Mr.3 killed or beaten up really badly? Guilt started gnawing at his insides, the way they didn't say what happened was getting his mind racing; all sorts of horrible things were floating around in his head.

"Well, with both Mr.3 and Mr.4 gone, we'll need two new members." The woman started casually, the scent of cigarettes lingering to Sanji from the other room. "Mr.5 and 6 will be happy to know about their promotion."

"We're not writing Mr.4 off until we find out what happened to him. We need to find him or his body." There was another creak of the chair. "Or if someone is trying to torture the bastard for information, we need to kill him ourselves."

Sanji's mind was in overdrive, there was someone else out there taking on Baroque Works agents? If there was, then maybe he had a chance after all?

"So, will you be over at my place for dinner tonight?" The woman's tone suddenly dropped in pitch and became sultry, widening Sanji's eyes as he stared at the crack in the door.

"I have work Sunday night." The other man said dismissively, and Sanji reeled backwards in horror when he heard the heavy footsteps get closer to the door he was hiding beside. "I have to prepare things before then."

"Anything I should watch the news for?" The woman sounded amused and almost excited. Sanji's curled brow furrowed in confusion.

"Possibly." The man said almost teasingly, his tone slightly softer than it had been before.

"If you finish early tonight, how about you come by my place?" There was thick suggestion her voice and more seduction than Sanji had thought possible to convey in a single question. Women actually said these things?

Sanji's head was spinning, he was blushing and paling all at once, unable to decide if he should make a run for it before they left the room, or sit still in case they opened the door while he was standing out in the open. He started looking around for a place to hide.

"_If_ I have time, then I'll see what I can do." Mr.1 rumbled softly, sounds of the manager's delight sounding from the other room in a way that made Sanji turn red and bolt for the back door.

He rounded the corner and left the alley the moment he heard the doorknob of the staff door creak. He ran into the restaurant, almost throwing himself into his seat and sliding uncomfortably against the wall moments before the manager entered the cafe.

Conis sent him a smile from across the room, but Sanji was too busy finishing his rapidly warming ice-tea to return it wholeheartedly. He ice cubes clattered against the glass as Sanji finished his drink. Sanji left a large tip for the angelic creature before he gathered his bags and left as fast as he possibly could without raising suspicion.

* * *

The walk home passed in a blur. Sanji didn't remember any streetlights or cars, he didn't remember any faces or passing any lovely ladies. The rush of blood in his ears was deafening, his body tense and practically vibrating with nervous energy.

They knew someone else answered the phone, meaning they had their guard up. There were apparently 2 members of 10 out for the count for the moment, and most of the remaining members had a devil fruit. There could easily be more people working for Mr.0, but they sounded like cannon fodder.

Sanji had no idea how to get into contact with the person that took out Mr.4. It would have to be someone terribly strong judging from the way those two were talking. Hopefully that person was working on toppling Mr.0; that way Sanji might be able to focus on bringing down Crocodile.

Something was happening on Sunday, but Sanji wasn't sure what it was or how he could stop it. He felt terribly helpless, all information he gained on this huge criminal organization made him feel more alone than before. Hopefully he'd helped that other person by taking down Mr.3.

He entered his alley and put down his bags, jamming the key into its slot and turning with more force than necessary. The lock clicked and Sanji withdrew his key, frozen on his doorstep with his hand lingering on the doorknob.

What if Zoro wasn't inside? Sanji knew he shouldn't care. If the Marimo wasn't inside, he'd be free to relax and maybe go out drinking or something. He could focus on the Mr.0 problem without a moody stranger on his couch. That was what he wanted, right?

He'd bought so many ingredients, he'd been looking forward to cooking something extremely delicious and rubbing his skill in the swordsman's face. But if Zoro was gone, he was alone for the entire weekend. There was an ache in his chest as he turned shouldered the door open hesitantly, hand clinging desperately onto the knob when he entered his apartment.

The smell of sweat and blood hit his senses like a wall, causing his brow to furrow in disgust and glance around the apartment. He didn't see the Marimo anywhere, until he looked down at the floor. Zoro was lying flat on a towel, face down on the floor. For a second Sanji thought the moss-brain had died with a towel considerately keeping his guts off the carpet.

Then Sanji noticed the twitch of muscle in the man's back and heard breathing. The swordsman didn't seem to have noticed Sanji coming home. Sanji's curled eyebrow arched in confusion when the man pushed himself off the floor with a grunt before sinking down again.

Then he realized what was going on.

"OI! YOU STUPID MOSSY-BASTARD!" Sanji howled in anger, startling the other man out of his daze when he stormed across the floor. "YOU'RE WORKING OUT?! WITH YOUR SHITTY-BODY PRACTICALLY CUT IN TWO!?"

Sanji's fury was coursing through his body, fire in his eyes and his face lit up in anger. Zoro stared up at him for a second, barely managing to dodge the kick aimed for his head. There was some blood staining the front of his bandages, the sight of it made Sanji howl in anger.

"OI!" Zoro rolled out of the way, getting to his feet and staring at Sanji like he'd never seen him before. "What is your problem, curly brow!?" Zoro dodged another kick, jumping backwards until his back hit the living room wall.

"YOU ARE MY PROBLEM YOU SHITTY MARIMO!" Sanji could see the other man reeling from his anger, Zoro was staring wide eyed with a slightly slacked jaw, his body tense and ready to block. Sanji shifted his weight and glared at the other man. "DO YOU WANT TO DIE? HOW CAN YOU BE STUPID ENOUGH TO WORK OUT WITH YOUR BODY IN THIS STATE?!"

There was a kick aimed for Zoro's head, barely blocked by Zoro's forearm as the swordsman flew to the side and hit Sanji's bookshelf. Cookbooks tumbled out of the shelf with a flutter of pages, and Zoro almost slipped on one of them as he stumbled to regain his balance.

"It's fine! It was just push-ups!" Zoro snapped at him, causing the blond to toss his head backwards and groan long and raw at the stupidity of that sentence. Zoro continued, annoyed tone doing nothing to quell Sanji's anger. "I wasn't doing sit ups, my wound wasn't-"

"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEAN!" Sanji covered his face in his palm, trying to regain his composure with a few deep breaths. "You're exerting yourself, stinking up my house, you're pulling your bandages and bleeding on my floor!"

"I put a towel on the floor-" Zoro began with an annoyed grumble, just to have Sanji storm up to him and glare at him with murderous intent.

"You're bleeding on my towel shitty-moss." Sanji hissed between clenched teeth, standing close enough to the other man to see the droplets of sweat sliding down his face and hanging on his jaw.

"Go jump off a building, crap-cook." Zoro glared back, not budging for a second as they stared each other down.

"You stink." Sanji grumbled, pulling away from Zoro's personal space and rudely waving his hand in front of his face. Zoro's brow twitched, but he didn't look away. Sanji took a step back and examined Zoro's bloodied bandages "-Can you take a shower without getting your injury soaked?"

Zoro grumbled something, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly as he closed his eyes. "Yes, I can. It's not that bad, idiot cook."

"Don't bullshit me Marimo-bastard." Sanji sighed as he went to collect his groceries. "Go shower and we'll wrap you up when you finish. I can't stand being in the same room as you if you're going to smell this bad."

Zoro grumbled something very rude under his breath, collecting the slightly bloody towel on his way as he walked to the bathroom. The door snapped shut, Sanji listened intently as he unpacked his ingredients, his nerves calming slightly when he heard the water running from the bathroom.

How DARE that Marimo exert himself like that while injured!? He was never going to heal up enough to be able to leave if he didn't take it easy and rest; was he TRYING to get himself killed? Sanji opened up all the windows, trying to get rid of the heavy musky scent of sweat from his apartment.

He put the wine in the fridge along with other things that needed to be chilled, noting how the box he'd left the Marimo for breakfast/lunch was missing. Further inspection of the kitchen revealed that Zoro had washed it, rather poorly, and put it in the wrong place.

After putting the groceries he didn't need immediately away, Sanji washed his hands and started preparing the meat and baked potatoes, turning on the oven and getting lost in the art of creating.

He'd just finished tying up the perfectly stuffed meat and placing it in an oiled pan when the sound of the bathroom door flying open unnecessarily hard rattled his nerves. Did that idiot grow up in some sort of metal door factory? The door didn't NEED that much force to open!

Sanji crouched and slipped the meat into the oven, adjusting the heat slightly as he heard the other man's footsteps behind him.

"Oi, cook."

Sanji turned around, almost falling backwards when greeted by the other man's mostly naked form.

There was a single flimsy layer of boxer briefs barely hanging onto Zoro's hips, the elastic caressing the indent of the man's hip bone as the damp fabric clung to the top of Zoro's thighs. Zoro was rubbing his green hair with the towel, golden earrings bouncing energetically from the force.

"WHY are you NAKED?" Sanji barked in outrage rubbing his temples tiredly as he tried to prevent himself from staring. The wound wasn't bleeding excessively, a few of the white butterfly bandages were missing.

"I'm not naked." Zoro pointed out with a arch of his eyebrow, pulling the towel down the back of his head and resting it on his shoulders. "If you haven't washed my haramaki yet, how about you toss my pants in with it as well?"

"I'm not your wife!" Sanji snapped in outrage, crossing his arms over his pink doskoi panda apron and tapping his foot impatiently. Zoro didn't seem to want to answer that, so Sanji mentally marked it as his 'win' and pointed to the laundry room. "Throw it in there with your other rags. I'll wash them later!"

Zoro turned to do as he was told, buying Sanji some time to collect his thoughts and compose himself. He didn't have to worry about dinner for another 20 minutes while the meat started cooking. He took off his apron and grabbed the new first aid kit he'd bought today and walked into the living room.

"sit down moss-brain."Sanji sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch, pulling out various medical supplies and placing them besides him. Zoro reluctantly did as he was told, the couch creaking from his weight as he sat down in front of Sanji with a grumpy expression on his face.

Sanji soaked a cotton ball in antiseptic. "We need to clean it." Sanji said as the smell of rubbing alcohol lingered in the air between them. "It's going to hurt like hell." Sanji recalled how much Zoro had suffered last time he disinfected his injury.

"I'll be fine." Zoro said casually, leaning his head backwards to stare at the ceiling and throwing his arms over the back of the couch, exposing his chest and injury to Sanji. "Get it over with."

The cook took a moment to look at the bleeding wound, eyes travelling up from Zoro's hip and to his collarbone, where the tendons in his neck melded with his jaw. Zoro's hands were gripping the back of the couch tightly, jaw clenched as the swordsman braced for the inevitable pain.

Sanji scooted closer, dragging the coffee table on the floor as he reached over and slid the cotton ball against the top of the cut. Zoro's body tensed and he grit his teeth in pain, his grip on the couch tightening slightly as he subconsciously started inching away from the pain.

Sanji moved the cotton ball along the wound, wiping up blood and cleaning the edges as cautiously as he could. Zoro's back arched slightly as his brow furrowed, Sanji pressed down on his shoulder, trying to keep him still as he reached the center of the wound. He felt warm muscles bulge in his injured palm, a low grunt of pain reverberating from Zoro's chest.

Sanji pulled away, letting go of a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when he sat back down to get a clean cotton ball. Zoro was panting, white knuckled grip on the couch slowly softening as the burn of antiseptic faded. Sanji fumbled slightly with the packet of cotton, the air was tense as he soaked the cotton and glanced up to look at Zoro.

Zoro was looking at him, slight sheen of sweat on his face and brow furrowed in a mix of pain and confusion. Sanji held the eye contact for a few awkward seconds before he raised the cotton ball. Zoro nodded once, swallowing as he tilted his head back and waited for the pain.

Sanji felt his cheeks heat up slightly, watching the movement of the other man's throat and tendons as he slipped the soaked cotton ball against the deepest part of the wound.

Zoro hissed and his fingers pulled at the fabric of the couch as Sanji slid the cotton along, biting his lower lip and watching the clenching and unclenching of Zoro's muscles slipping the cotton out towards the end. The swordsman's breath slowly evened, and by the time Sanji was cleaning the edge of the wound at Zoro's hip, the man seemed to be almost completely calm.

"We need to get this sewed up." Sanji tossed the dirty cotton ball into the clear plastic bag, pulling a few butterfly bandages out of the packet and fastening what he could of Zoro's skin. "As soon as possible."

"It's fine," Zoro said with a slightly ragged voice. "No doctors."

"It's not FINE." Sanji said seriously, looking at Zoro as he pulled out some antibiotic cream and passed it over to him. "These bandages keep coming loose because the wound is too deep."

Zoro started rubbing the cream over his newly closed wound as Sanji unwrapped the end of the roll of band aid. The swordsman's face was thoughtful and serious and Sanji hoped the idiot was overcoming his apparent fear of doctors. Neither of them said anything as Sanji assisted Zoro with wrapping up his torso.

"What are you making?" Zoro broke the silence with a casual question, causing Sanji to frown at the change in subject. He wasn't going to let this one go. The smell was lingering from the kitchen, rich and heavenly and Sanji couldn't help but contain a smirk as he got up to get started on the sauce and salad.

"Something that an only-microwave-meal-eating moron wouldn't be able to make himself in a thousand years." Sanji lit a cigarette, pushing the coffee table back into place with his foot. "Does it smell good?" Sanji flashed Zoro a victorious smirk as he turned to walk to the kitchen, trying to hold back a chuckle at the comically large frown on Zoro's face.

"It doesn't smell bad." Zoro said as he followed Sanji towards the kitchen, "Just tell me what it is. And don't give me any of those stupid fancy names."

"No." Sanji shook his head with a dramatic sigh, turning around to face the swordsman. He serviced his cigarette, enjoying the annoyance that spread over the swordsman's face when he couldn't contain his teasing grin. "You'll have to wait until it's ready."

Zoro grumbled under his breath, sitting down with an annoyed huff at the kitchen table and staring at Sanji with a displeased expression on his face. Sanji slipped on his apron, tying it behind his back with practiced movements as he started cleaning the ingredients for the salad.

"Look," Sanji held up the head of lettuce, grinning with the effort to hold back his laughter. "Does it remind you of home?"

Zoro's brow twitched in annoyance, his frown turning into a smirk as he leant forward on the small table.

"Nice apron, curly. The color pink suits you."

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED._

Thanks to my lovely beta **VioletClockworker, **for making this chapter as pretty as can be~ Early chapter because I have been so inspired by reviews and lovely fanfiction~

Sanji being a sneaky strategic spy is my favorite. (can you tell, almost all my Impel Down story revolved around it X_X; )

Sanji's digging himself so deep Zoro will get lost and accidentally find him. Anything you liked in particular? Please share! It makes my day to know what made you smile (or worry)!


	8. Investigation

**Chapter 8 : Investigation**

* * *

"Shitty swordsman!"

"Crap cook!"

"Moss-brain!"

"Dartboard brow!"

Sanji couldn't help but laugh. "Dartboard brow?!" He chuckled into his palm as he took a long drag of his cigarette, stirring the sauce while turning halfway to look at Zoro. "Feeling creative? Don't tell me you spent all day coming up with that one. It's awful."

"Then it fits, doesn't it?" Zoro grinned from the table, leaning back in the small and slightly wobbly kitchen chair. "Your stupid face just brings out the worst in me."

Cooking was even more enjoyable while arguing with Zoro. They had been exchanging increasingly stupid insults for 10 minutes, and dinner was almost ready. "Hey, grass-head, make yourself useful and set the table."

"Then will you give me back my sword?" Zoro asked and leant forward on the table, frowning at Sanji who made another mark into his mental scoreboard, he'd won that argument too.

"Nope," Sanji said calmly, popping the 'p' teasingly as he pointed to the cupboard on the left. "Plates and glasses in there. I bought wine to go with the food, so grab the wide ones."

"I don't like wine. Wine tastes like piss." Zoro grumbled and yanked the cupboard open, the glass tableware clattering loudly as he dragged the plates from the stack. "Do you have any non-fancy alcohol?"

Sanji rolled his eyes, sighing as he gestured to the fridge. "I should have figured quality was wasted on you, uncultured bastard. Yes, I bought some "cheap" alcohol, you can have a bo-"

"Great." Zoro interrupted, putting the plates and glasses on the table and yanking the fridge open.

"STOP OPENING THE FRIDGE SO ROUGHLY! YOU'LL BREAK SOMETHING!" Sanji swung a kick for Zoro's head, the swordsman dodged it, pulling a bottle of sake out of the fridge and grabbing Sanji's fine wine.

"Forks and that stuff?" Zoro asked as he closed the fridge with a slight slam, grinning teasingly at Sanji.

"Ugh, stupid bastard." Sanji sighed, filling up the sauce boat with his perfectly boiled creation. "Top drawer."

"If I'm being so annoying, you should give me my sword back." Zoro opened the drawer with a rattle, the forks and knives clattering brightly as he pulled two sets out of their homes and tossed on the table.

"If anything, every time you annoy me the longer I want to keep that sword away just to spite you." Sanji groaned as he moved the sauce to the table, watching Zoro arrange the plates and put the utensils on top of them instead of placing them on the correct sides.

After Sanji finished placing the salad and beautifully cut baked potatoes on the table, Zoro was already sitting in 'his chair' with a bored expression.

"Stop frowning like that!" Sanji huffed, kicking Zoro in the shin. "Respect the cooking process or you can eat shit! You're lucky I'm letting you eat! You're not even wearing pants!"

"I CAN EAT WITHOUT MY PANTS ON DAMN CURLY!" Zoro snapped impatiently, glaring at the oven that held the source of the intoxicating smell. The swordsman frowned at Sanji, a low rumble of his stomach soothing the cook's anger. "At least tell me WHAT it is!"

Sanji turned around, pulling the perfectly cooked and rested meat out of the oven and placing it on the counter, obscuring Zoro's view as he cut it into slices. He could see the swordsman lean backwards in his chair, stretching out his neck in an attempt to see what smelled so good.

"OH SHI-" There was a scrape and a clatter, then a loud groan causing Sanji to whip around worriedly. Zoro's chair had fallen backwards, sending the swordsman flat on his back on the floor. Zoro was covering his face with his left palm, his barely visible ears and cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Sanji stared at the practically naked man who face palmed on his kitchen tiles, knees still on the seat of the chair. Zoro's fingers parted slightly, eyeing Sanji who stood by the counter. They eyes met, and Sanji chuckled, then roared in amusement and buckled over in hysterics.

"OI!" Zoro snapped defensively, scrambling to sit up as Sanji fell down on his knees holding his stomach, joining Zoro on the floor."Your chairs are made out of shitty plastic!"

Sanji didn't seem to care, his laughter amplified at Zoro's excuse and tears started forming at the corner of his eyes. His stomach was aching from the strain; he hadn't laughed this hard in years. He gave a weak cough when he failed to catch his breath, his laugher peaking in a loud snort. Sanji grabbed his mouth, pausing in horror at the embarrassing sound and glancing up at Zoro.

A second after their eyes met, Zoro's face broke out in a gigantic grin before he let out a roaring laugh, pointing at the embarrassed and horrified expression on Sanji's face. Sanji's face turned red in a heartbeat, but his laughter resumed against his will, vibrating in his chest and warming him up inside. Whether it was at the sound he'd made himself or because of Zoro's contagious cackles he didn't know.

Eventually the bizarre laughing contest faded, laughter becoming chuckles as both men got up off the floor. Zoro fixed his chair while Sanji transferred the meat to the table, sitting down in his own chair whilst avoiding all eye contact with the other man. He could feel the pleasant burn of a good laugh in his stomach, he brushed the slightly fluttery feeling off as a side effect.

"You could have just told me it was meat." Zoro said with a slightly annoyed grumble, raising his fork to pull a large serving onto his plate. Sanji frowned as he rolled his eyes, rationing himself salad and opening his bottle of wine.

"That's where you are wrong, moss-brain." Sanji said softly, helping himself to a modest amount of perfectly roasted lamb. "This isn't _just_ meat." He cut a small bite and slipped it into his mouth with a smirk.

Zoro snorted disbelievingly, looking down on his plate and furrowing his brow at the food like he expected it to start glowing in the dark. He seemed to deem it safe after some thorough glaring, so he cut himself a rather thick cut and unceremoniously stuffed it in his mouth.

Sanji was watching in amusement when Zoro's fork left his lips, the swordsman's eye twitching slightly and his jaw abruptly stopped halfway through chewing. Sanji smugly reached over for his wine glass, pouring himself a drink while he watched Zoro try to work through all the flavors and textures that his microwave-meal eating tongue had forgotten.

Zoro looked down on his plate in shock, like he was expecting the food to have turned to something foreign. He resumed his chewing, faster than before and Sanji could swear he heard a small half-suffocated moan accompany Zoro's exhale.

Sanji almost felt bad for his dinner guest; maybe he should have started off with something simple to jolt his taste buds awake. It was the Baratie's special 'important-people-and/or-reporters-are-visiting' meal after all. He'd prepared it a hundred times and he'd been praised every single time.

"Don't forget the side dishes, I spent time on those." Sanji said with an amused hum, pushing the plate of baked potatoes towards Zoro with his fork. The swordsman didn't argue or even bother speaking, which was good, since his mouth was full and Sanji wouldn't appreciate it.

Sanji watched Zoro shovel salad, potatoes and everything else he could see on the table onto his plate like he was afraid it was going away. It was amusing really, there was no reason to eat that fast after all. The blond took his time, savoring the taste and texture and mentally praising himself. Zeff wouldn't have been able to criticize this.

After a while of silent eating, Zoro's pace seemed to calm down, his movements became less wolf-like and he paused in between mouthfuls to take a drink. Right from the bottle. Sanji sighed.

"Use a glass." Sanji pushed the glass towards Zoro with a finger, glaring at the other man.

"Why?" Zoro grunted when he placed down the bottle, wiping alcohol from the corner of his smirking mouth with a swipe of his thumb. "I'm planning on finishing it, besides it would just create more washing up, right?"

"We're not pirates." Sanji frowned at the other man, gesturing to the glass. "We're civilized, so we use glasses. I can handle the strain of washing up one extra glass."

"But what if I _want_ to be a pirate?" Zoro asked with a teasing raise of his eyebrow, taking another sip straight from the bottle.

"Even if we _were _pirates, I'd still tell you to use a glass." Sanji said with an annoyed huff, yanking the bottle out of Zoro's grip and holding it away from him childishly. "I'm in charge of the alcohol, so either you use a glass, or that's all you get."

Zoro frowned at him, rolling his eyes before raising his glass. "Fine. Shitty cook."

When the meal was over, Sanji put down his fork and leant back in his chair, lighting himself a cigarette. He blew the smoke into the air, listening to the damn swordsman drink straight from the bottle again as he watched the smoke dissipate towards the ceiling.

"How was it?" Sanji asked after a moment of silence, glancing down his nose at the other man who was patting his bare stomach contently. There wasn't any food left on any of the plates, even the bowl of salad was empty.

"It wasn't bad."

Sanji would have been lying if he'd said he didn't expect that. It still pissed him off, but he'd seen it coming for miles. Zoro wasn't too hard to figure out. Sanji was sure that the moment he looked at him from across the table, the bastard would be smirking. Just to bait him.

"You're an ass." Sanji grimaced, looking at the predictably smirking swordsman. "And predictable too, is that how you got your ass handed to you?" Sanji took a long drag of his cigarette, enjoying the sight of Zoro's smirk turning into a sour scowl.

"I'm not predictable. And no, that's not how I lost." Zoro's voice was tinged with venom, and Sanji decided not to push the subject. There was something more than just being a sore loser in that tone, and the Marimo took an extra large sip of his drink.

"I guess I'll start cleaning your rags so you can get dressed tomorrow." Sanji stood up and gathered the plates, putting them besides the sink before heading for the laundry room. "Unless you want to do the word a favor and burn them?"

"Do the world a favor by staying pretty much naked?" Zoro asked with an arch of his brow and a teasing smirk that sent a jolt of embarrassment up Sanji's spine.

"NO YOU IDIOT!" Sanji howled in outrage, swinging his leg for Zoro's head and barely brushing against his hair when the other man ducked. "Don't TWIST my words!" Sanji frowned as he stormed out of the kitchen, grumbling to himself as he stuffed blood crusted clothes into the washing machine and used as much soap as the machine could handle.

The small washing machine whirred and hummed diligently as it started filling up with water, the suds turning morbidly red and glistening. Sanji shuddered and left the laundry room, closing the door to distance himself from the sounds.

The water was running in the kitchen and there was an occasional clatter of glass that made Sanji's curled eyebrows rise. He peeked around the corner, and he decided he'd judged the other man too soon. He wasn't entirely predictable. Sanji wouldn't have predicted that he'd start doing the dishes.

He wasn't very good at it, but it was the thought that counted.

The blond lit himself another cigarette, walking into the kitchen and taking his place besides Zoro. "I'll wash, you dry?" He offered, that way, Zoro could be of use, and Sanji could have his plates properly cleaned.

"This is fine, right? You can dry." Zoro said and nodded towards the plates on the drying racks.

"I want to do the washing." Sanji and pushed Zoro away from the sink with a small swing of his hips, making the swordsman grumble in annoyance and drop the plate he was washing.

The swordsman reluctantly stepped to the side and shook water off his hands as he got a kitchen towel. Sanji reached over and opened the window, letting the smoke from his cigarette and steam from the hot water linger in the night.

"Oi, close the window." Zoro hit Sanji's shoulder lightly with the kitchen towel, causing the blond to look at him questioningly.

"Why?" Sanji blinked a few times, he always had that window open while doing the dishes. Zoro took a step back, gesturing to his naked torso with an explanatory wave of his hand.

Sanji took the invitation and let his eyes wander up and down the other man's body. Most of his torso was covered in bandages, but none of them looked like they were bleeding through. His brow furrowed when he looked for whatever it was he was supposed to notice, Zoro's expression was getting surlier by the second.

Then it dawned on Sanji. "Oh, right." He closed the window, slight blush staining his cheeks. "Forgot you weren't wearing anything."

God, he'd taken a little too long to realize. He'd been looking so thoroughly too. How embarrassing. Sanji avoided eye contact as the other man got back to his position, taking a soaked plate and rubbing it dry.

"Perverted-cook."

Sanji glanced at Zoro. He could have sworn he heard a hint of affection in that one. The swordsman wasn't giving anything away, rubbing at a small scratch in the plate in a vain attempt at getting the imaginary stain away. The fluttering returned, but surely it was just because of Sanji's embarrassment.

* * *

Sanji yanked the now clean 'clothing' from the washing machine, bringing it into the living room to hang on the small foldable drying rack. The pants seemed mostly unscathed, but the haramaki was cut at one side. He brought it over to the man, who was sitting on the couch and fidgeting with his bandages.

"It's torn. Can I burn it now?" Sanji suggested, stretching the damn cloth out to show Zoro the rip in it.

"I can still wear it. It's my favorite one." Zoro reached out and yanked it away from Sanji, inspecting the tear and sticking his thumb into it. "It's not a big gash anyway."

"If you insist on wearing rags, I suppose you could at least wear whole-looking ones." Sanji sighed and went to get his makeshift sewing kit. "Here, I use it to mend my suits if the seams burst while fighting. The thread is pretty tough and hard to snap with your hands, so use the scissors."

"Why would you fight in a suit?" Zoro frowned, taking the needle and threading it, giving the thread a curious tug. "Suits are terrible for fighting in, they are very restricting." The swordsman stated, seemingly not caring if Sanji was fighting at all, more concerned with what he wore while doing it.

"Not if they are well made and fit you properly." Sanji lit himself a cigarette, pulling his computer into his lap and opening up a new tab. He searched 'Sir Crocodile' and hit enter, glancing up to see Zoro pull the fabric together in big crude stitches.

"Ugh, give me that." Sanji said with a roll of his eyes, yanking the blasted thing from Zoro and pulling out the seams. "You'll look like a homeless person if you do it like that." He closed his computer and put it down on the table, rethreading the needle and closing up the gap in a less visible manner.

Zoro didn't argue, sitting on the other couch and watching Sanji's hands pull the fabric together in smooth even stitches.

"How's your hand?" Zoro asked, raising his own hand and pointing to his palm. "Did your bandages get wet?"

The question came so out of the blue that Sanji paused in his work, glancing up at the other man who was looking at Sanji's bandaged hand curiously. After pausing his sewing to investigate, the blond ran a thumb over the slightly damp bandages concealing his cut, the pressure ached slightly, but disappeared right after.

"It's fine." Sanji shrugged, he'd forgotten about his palm. Was this why Zoro had wanted to do the washing up? That was… surprisingly thoughtful of him. Sanji felt the damn flutter return, a little stronger this time.

"Well, you're an idiot, so you should change your bandages anyway." Zoro shrugged indifferently, swinging his legs into the couch to lay down on it and stretching his bandages a little too much for Sanji's tastes. After settling into the couch, Zoro fished for the remote that was just out of his reach on the table.

Sanji pushed the table an extra inch closer to the other man with his foot as he kept working, an appreciative grunt and an overly enthusiastic tent commercial breaking the slightly awkward silence. Sanji finished mending Zoro's haramaki, throwing the damn thing into his face with a grin.

"Here you go. One fixed hideous crime against fashion." Sanji laughed when Zoro pulled the cold cloth off his face with a grimace. The awkward silence was shattered, the arguments resumed as Sanji pulled the computer back into his lap.

* * *

Two hours later, Zoro was snoring on the couch, overpowering the sound of explosions and rampaging laser-beam-eyed dinosaurs. Sanji rubbed his temples in an attempt to get the exhaustion out, failing miserably as he got up and turned off his laptop.

He hadn't found a single incriminating thing about Crocodile online and not a single mention of a Mr.0. The one thing he'd found that was vaguely suspicious was one forum where a slightly paranoid poster swore on his life that Crocodile was an alien. Not exactly what Sanji had been looking for, so he decided he'd had enough for one night.

Someone as high profile as Crocodile wouldn't let media-bait lie around in the open after all. Maybe Sanji would have more luck connecting Crocodile to Mr.0 if he knew more about that mysterious boss. He might as well try digging up some information concerning that tomorrow, he had the day off after all.

When Sanji finished getting ready for bed and turned off the TV, he stood for a moment and looked at Zoro's idiotic sleeping face. Despite everything, he could block his kicks barehanded and his reactions were easily superhuman. Sanji watched Zoro's chest heave and fall with every snore.

Maybe he could help? He did owe him big time and being alone in this whole thing was rather scary. Sanji would like to know someone had his back. Or at least that someone warn his old man if Sanji failed.

The thought was slapped down as soon as it entered Sanji's head. No. This had nothing to do with Zoro. He wasn't going to include the swordsman in his ridiculous suicide mission.

* * *

The next morning, Sanji stood outside the police station, smoking his second cigarette while he tried to gather the courage to go inside. He had his story all worked out. He knew exactly what he was going to say, but his nerves were getting to him. A few officers walking in and out of the building gave him suspicious glances, as Sanji stubbed out and entered the building.

It was large and professional looking, with an unwelcoming and impersonal gray main desk and rows of offices down various hallways. There was real no color anywhere. Well, nowhere apart from the main desk that housed a particularly smiling young man with bright pink hair.

Sanji made his way to the main desk, the young man turning to him and waiting patiently for Sanji to cross the unnecessarily large room. His pink hair seemed to glow in the drab environment and Sanji couldn't help but wonder how someone so cheerful and young got this job when they stood out this much.

"Good day! How can I assist?" The young man said cheerfully, a greeting more fitting for a grocery store than a police station.

"I… am here to see Detective Smoker?" Sanji asked hesitantly, thrown off by the young man's eagerness. He'd expected a lovely lady at the desk, or a grouchy old police officer who'd tell him to get lost.

"Ah, Smoker is busy… at the moment." The young man smiled awkwardly, glancing over his shoulder at a door not too far away with muffled arguments coming from inside. "If you leave your name, number and address, I can ask him to contact you."

"Nah, it's… nothing important." Sanji backed away, not willing to leave his contact information. "It can wait. Really." Sanji turned for the door, already rethinking his strategy when the suspicious door burst open with a loud slam.

Sanji turned around just in time to see Smoker storm out of the office, his expression absolutely twisted in rage as he stomped past the main desk.

"DO NOT WALK AWAY FROM ME, SMOKER!" A screechy voice howled from inside the office, a thin man with lavender colored hair and a rather freaky leather brace on his face appeared in the doorway. "I AM YOUR SUPERIOR, OBEY ME!"

Smoker turned around, his face devoid of emotion but his eyes piercing with unbridled contempt as he stared at the his alleged superior. The man in the mask recoiled slightly, catching himself as he pointed a slightly shaking finger at Smoker.

"CALL OFF THE INVESTIGATION!" The man demanded, stomping his foot like a child. "I'M CALLING IT OFF!"

"I have the right to investigate this incident for three more days." Smoker growled threateningly, crossing his arms over his chest and standing his ground. "Unless you want to talk to Garp directly, you have no right to call it off."

"W-well then! I'm not going to renew this investigation when the times runs out!" The other man, the screechy one deflated slightly, clearly losing some of his confidence when that "Garp" was named. "You have three days, Smoker!" He phrased it like he was giving the detective an ultimatum, storming dramatically into his office and slamming the door.

Smoker was glaring at the door, pulling cigars from his pocket when the young man at the desk cleared his throat. Sanji almost felt sorry for the pink haired young man when Smoker glared at him, bringing the cigars up to his mouth.

"What is it Coby?" Smoker growled threateningly, his mood clearly more sour than usual.

"D-detective Smoker, there is a … man here to see you." Coby said innocently, gesturing to Sanji.

Smoker looked up at Sanji, his eyes narrowing suspiciously and pinning Sanji in place. There was a long pause as Sanji couldn't move, trying to remember the plan he'd formed as he ate his cooked breakfast. The blond swallowed and walked over to the desk again, forcing a polite smile that might have come off as a slightly sour grimace.

"I remembered something about the construction site case." He began, Smoker's shoulders tensed, his interest clearly raised. "It's probably nothing important, but I thought you might want to know… every little bit helps and all that."

Smoker glanced back to the door, unlit cigars keeping his mouth in a perpetual snarl as he gestured to Sanji to follow.

"My office." The detective started walking and Sanji had to run around the main desk to follow. He caught up and entered the small corner office, the air was thick with smoke and smelled of cigars and coffee. It almost looked like one of those Noir-movie sets.

The door closed behind them as Smoker sat down at his desk, gesturing to the chair on the other side and lighting his two cigars. Sanji took his seat, pulling up his packet of cigarettes and holding them up questioningly, only to get a single nod in response from Smoker.

The first drag of smoke calmed Sanji down enough to get his gears turning.

"So on the day you discovered the blood on the construction site-" Sanji began, taking another drag of his cigarette to calm down when Smoker's eyes seemed to bore into his soul. "There was this health-inspector there."

Smoker grunted and flipped through a few papers, reading over something. Sanji flicked his cigarette ashes into the overflowing ashtray, crossing his legs and waiting until Smoker finished reading his papers.

"He said he found nothing suspicious." The detective growled huskily, glaring at Sanji over the edge of the papers.

"That's not what I mean." Sanji continued, wondering if smoking too much would give away his stress. "I was on the balcony upstairs for a smoke when he arrived there, and he was speaking on the phone."

"Listening to other people's conversations is illegal." Smoker pointed out casually, tossing the papers on the table carelessly and reclining back in his chair. He was regarding Sanji with slight interest now, waiting to see where he was going with this.

"I know, but he was saying some pretty weird stuff, so I couldn't help but remember it." Sanji took another drag of his cigarette for dramatic effect, leaning forward in his chair. "He said his name was Mr.3 and that he was talking to someone called Mr.0."

That captured Smoker's attention, the larger man was instantly sitting straight in his chair and staring at Sanji with a mix of suspicion and interest. He flipped through the papers again, glaring at something and reaching for his phone.

"He stated his name as Galdino on our papers." Smoker said as he pressed a button, a loud beep and a click as he pulled up his receiver. "Tashigi, see if you can contact that Galdino bastard from the Rain Hotel case." There was a slight pause that Sanji suspected was just long enough for that Tashigi to agree before Smoker hung up.

"Rain Hotel?" Sanji blinked, confused by the term. It hadn't rained for ages.

"It's what that hotel will be called if it's finished." Smoker said with a grumble, leaning forward on the table. "Never mind that, what did you hear this _Mr.3_ say?"

"Not much, he sounded worried and mentioned phase 2 or something. I wasn't paying too much attention. His hair was distracting me." Sanji said semi truthfully, stubbing out his cigarette. One white stick in an ocean of thick brown cigars stubs. "Who's this Mr.0?"

Smoker clearly knew about him, seeing how his reaction went from vague interest to full alert in a single sentence. Interesting, there might be some information to have after all.

"A criminal. A dangerous criminal. Supposedly the leader of Baroque Works." Smoker grunted as he lit another cigar and replaced one of his more burned out ones. "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"No." Suddenly Sanji was flooded by a deep sense of regret. Why had he told Smoker about this? He had assumed Smoker could be trusted with this information, hoping to see if the name would get attention. It did and now Sanji wasn't sure if his plan had been all that great, had found out a new lead though. Baroque Works.

The phone rang again, Smoker raised his hand to Sanji to ask him to wait, pressing the speaker button and watching Sanji's reaction when he spoke. "What did you find out, Tashigi?"

"Uhm, Smoker." The voice of a lovely lady sounded from the speaker, catching Sanji's interest. "There is no Galdino employed at the Public Health inspection and his number is disconnected."

"I see. Keep looking." Smoker said with a long drag of his cigars, watching Sanji intently. Sanji looked back to Smoker, hoping to come off as surprised. Smoker let go of the button and turned fully to Sanji, flicking a long cylinder of ash into the overflowing ashtray.

"That case you have three days to work on, is it this one?" Sanji risked asking, leaning back in his chair. Tashigi wasn't going to find Galdino anywhere, he had already met his end at the hands of the mysterious Mr.0. He couldn't tell Smoker that though.

"Yes. Superintendent Spandam wants the investigation called off." Smoker said with an angry scoff, producing hastily scrabbled notes onto his detective notepad. "Too bad for him I'm sticking with it until the end." He tore out a page passing it to Sanji.

There were a few numbers scrabbled on there in blue pen. Sanji looked them over before folding the note, looking questioningly at Smoker.

"My personal number." Smoker explained. "If you remember anything else, call it. Don't call the station and ask for me, just use that one." He pointed at the paper, his expression serious. "Don't tell anyone else about this."

Sanji stood up, thoroughly spooked by Smoker's intense expression. He put the folded note in his pocket, nodding once to the detective. Could he trust this guy? He seemed righteous enough, but Sanji had spent so much time tip-toeing around him that he just felt uncomfortable thinking of him as an ally.

"Try not to give your personal information to the front desk when you leave." Smoker said with a gruff, a strange request from a police officer that sent chills up Sanji's back. "Tell them it was nothing important or something."

Sanji gave a single nod, stepping out of the smoke filled room and making his way to the exit. He tried his best to ignore the pink haired man who was currently assisting a similarly aged blond with some paperwork.

"Ah, Helmeppo-san, wait a moment." Coby said cheerfully, earning an annoyed groan from the other man when he turned to Sanji. "Excuse me!" Coby waved Sanji over enthusiastically, beckoning him over to the table with a smile.

Sanji stood still between the door and the desk, wondering how suspicious it would look if he made a run for it.

"What is it?" Sanji tried to sound nonchalant, noticing how Helmeppo gave him a vicious glare from across the room.

"Please come here and state your name and address for our records!" Coby smiled and pointed to the book, holding a pen out for Sanji. Sanji worried at his lower lip for a moment, glancing to the door.

"Do I have to? It was nothing important and I am in a hurry-"

"Hey! Do what Coby asked!" Helmeppo snapped rudely, clearly showing why he wasn't the one manning the front desk. Coby turned to give his coworker a disapproving frown that made the other man shrink back like a scolded puppy.

"Please. No matter how insignificant it might seem, these things are important!" Coby tried again, his smile back in place as he wiggled the pen to Sanji. Helmeppo glared at Sanji from behind Coby, arms crossed across his lanky chest.

Sanji sighed, giving up and walking over to Coby and taking the pen. "Alright. If it really is that important." Sanji started filling in the slots, much to Coby's delight.

"Coby-" Helmeppo urged from behind the other man, pointing to the papers on his desk. "If I don't finish this soon, I'll miss lunch."

"That's fine!" Coby smiled as he turned to Helmeppo, Sanji glanced up in annoyance; skipping lunch was NOT fine. He was about to point this out when Coby scratched his nose cutely and continued, "I can just buy us both some sandwiches and we can eat together in the staff room."

"T-that's fine I guess. I heard that today's lunch is bad anyway-"

Sanji glanced up the catch Helmeppo's face flash from confusion to slightly embarrassed joy. Sanji could barely contain his smirk. Ah. Young love.

"Here you go." Sanji said as he dropped the pen with a clatter and turned to the door, if Coby asked for some form of ID he was making a break for it.

"Thank you, and have a nice day-" Coby waved him and looked over the information. _"- Mr. Prince!"_

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**

The plot thickens. Up to the point where it gets hard to stir. This chapter was painful to write, since I wanted to put so much in it but at the same time avoid dwelling too much on the same parts. Lots of changing, moving, cutting and fixing up in this one.

Thanks to **VioletClockworker** for being my lovely beta!

despite this chapter being a bit over the place, I hope it was entertaining. My favorite part in it was the whole Pirate-argument at dinner, I'm pretty proud of that one. I found it hilarious. What was your favorite thing in this chapter? please share!


	9. Deadline

**Chapter 9: Deadline.**

* * *

When Sanji walked out of the police station, he took one deep cleansing breath of traffic-contaminated air and lit himself a cigarette. Before Coby could realize he put down a fake name and address, the blond started walking, trying to keep from running as he took big nervous steps down the street.

He didn't know exactly where he was going, as long as it was out of shouting range from the police station he was set. He'd gotten some useful information he had to review. Sanji decided that he could just as well try to get more information since it was still early in the day.

He ordered himself a coffee and a bagel at the Spider's Cafe, flirting lightly with Conis before he took his seat. Ears straining for any signs of Mr.1's deep baritone or signs of the manager, Sanji pulled up Smoker's number and looked at it.

Why didn't Smoker want him to call the station? Was there someone at the station that was in league with Baroque Works? Someone there wasn't trustworthy, that or Smoker himself couldn't be trusted. Sanji's brow furrowed as he chewed his bagel, pulling up his phone and adding Smoker's number just in case he lost the note.

What was the harm in having the number? If he didn't call Smoker, he wouldn't be able to do anything. He could always call Smoker if things couldn't possibly get worse, then it wouldn't matter if Smoker couldn't be trusted. He'd be dead anyway.

Sanji paused at that, staring distantly at the numbers on his phone screen.

He'd be dead.

Sanji felt slightly sick when the weight of the mess he'd gotten himself into settled on his shoulders. This Mr.0 was the boss of a criminal organization called Baroque Works. They were clearly capable of forging badges and titles and making people like that Mr.3, Galdino, completely disappear. He was really playing a dangerous game here.

Sanji pulled up a pen, turning the note over and scribbling down all the things he currently knew, he had to get his mind in order. He had to look at the facts and come up with a plan or else he was dead. He tapped the pen on the table a few times, glancing around before writing on the top left corner.

'BQW'. Okay. He knew that was a criminal organization.

According to what Smoker had said, the investigation at the construction site would continue for at least three more days, maybe longer if Smoker made some progress. This would mean that the Baratie is safe for now. Sanji had three days to come up with some way to secure the Baratie.

Okay. He had a deadline.

Now, he knew that there were at least 10 members in the organization not counting Mr.0, and there could be more. The Manager has spoken like she was a part of it, but she wasn't a number, meaning that there were at least 11 members, 20 if they came in pairs, Mr.3 was out and Mr.4 was missing. Mr.1 said two of them didn't have devil fruit powers, this could mean that there were 18 people with devil fruit powers out to kill him.

Sanji's head was spinning. No one had ever wanted to kill him before, and now he felt like he was going up against an army holding nothing but a butter knife. He had to make sure he wasn't found, one mess up and he'd be dead.

Then there was this Mystery Man. Sanji marked him on the paper with a question mark and a circle. There was someone out there that was taking out Mr.0's people. Sanji had indirectly gotten rid of Mr.3, and this other person had taken out Mr.4. This was good. Some progress was being made.

Sanji tapped his pen on the table, sipping his coffee before he continued his scribbling. He could meet up with this person, team up maybe? It felt a little less daunting to know there was someone out there working towards the same goal he was.

The note was starting to fill up with problems and facts that made Sanji feel less safe by the second. Mr.1 had a job on Sunday. That was tomorrow. He had no idea what it was, but it might be on the news. What could he be doing that could get on the news? Was he going to destroy something?

Sanji looked through his pictures again, looking at the restaurant and business names and trying to remember what had happened to the ones that were scribbled over. Most of them had burned, one had been bought and another one was shut down by a health inspector. The Baratie was at the bottom of the list; the only one not marked out.

He supposed it was time for some thorough investigation, so he finished his drink and food and left the café, there was no sign of either of the Mr.1 pair so he really had no reason to stay there apart from looking at Conis being cute. Ah. Mellorine~.

Sanji looked up directions to the closest establishment on the list. A small restaurant shut down by the health inspector. He had a bad feeling that the health inspector had been Galdino and the restaurant hadn't broken any rules. It could have been the Baratie.

He stared at the note containing most of his current problems, and for good measure, he added Zoro in the bottom right corner. He really hoped he could get rid of the moss headed bastard as soon as possible. This whole thing with Zoro was-

No.

There was no _thing_.

Sanji scribbled out the name irritably, stuffing the note and pen in his pocket. He lit himself a cigarette, stomping down the street and trying to arrange his thoughts. Zoro was... attractive. That was all there was. He had known the man for about two days, no one could develop feelings for someone over the course of two days.

Sanji glanced up to make sure the street was safe to cross when he noticed her: the lovely raven haired beauty he had seen before Zoro woke up. Ah~ Twice he had seen her smiling to him from across the street! Mellorine~ It had to be true love! Such a romantic encounter!

He waved at her joyfully, noticing how her mysterious smile grew slightly wider and her head tilted sideways in silent amusement. Sanji glanced across the street to make sure he didn't get flattened on the asphalt in front of this clearly destined-to-be princess of his dreams. The moment he looked up, she was gone.

Sanji snarled in annoyance and his shoulders dropped in disappointment. A hallucination? Where was the love-at-first-sight lady he had dreamt of? Sanji lamented his fate for a moment while he waited for the streetlight to turn green, crossing along with a crowd of people as he ran his thumb over the note in his pocket.

Naturally, there was no way he could have developed any kind of feelings for Zoro over the course of just _two days_. It was just all the time they had spent eating together and arguing. Zoro was amusing and irritating at the same time and he got under Sanji's skin more than anyone he'd ever met.

That was the only reason. He'd also spent more time touching Zoro than was healthy for his bottled up urges. Sanji sighed and blew smoke into the air, watching it dissipate as he rubbed his temples. Why was he such a hormonal mess? Was it because he was young?

Sanji shook his head, determined to stop thinking about Zoro in any context that wasn't strictly platonic. After all, it was highly unlikely that Zoro was into men, right? Sanji huffed slightly at that, flicking the ashes off his cigarettes into a passing sewer as he kept walking.

The only real hint Sanji had to the man's possible homosexuality was that time Zoro suggested Sanji saved him to get sex. Sanji felt his face flush at the memory, fist clenched in embarrassed annoyance. What sort of person just ASKS that? What did he expect? Sanji would say, 'yes, now take off your pants' and he'd just COMPLY?

Sanji felt slightly sick to his stomach at the thought. Maybe that was exactly WHAT Zoro had been expecting. Did Sanji just look like a horrible person, or was this something Zoro was used to? It was hard to imagine someone as strong as Zoro being the victim in a situation. Maybe he really DID used to be a slave? It really WOULD explain Zoro's insane tolerance to pain.

Was there a way to find out without asking? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Aiding escaped slaves was a crime. A serious offence, especially if they belonged to someone important. He could be killed for that.

Well, he was already putting his life on the line, even if Zoro was an escaped slave from a fucking Celestial Dragon it wouldn't make a difference to him. Sanji paused in on the sidewalk, ignoring the annoyed looks he got from fellow pedestrians as he blew the last of the smoke from his current cigarette into the air.

He wasn't being possessive or overprotective. He just felt responsible for Zoro now that he'd saved his life, damn it. It wasn't like Zoro was incapable of taking care of himself. He might be hurt right now, but anyone who could block a kick from Sanji with his bare hands didn't need to be protected.

Sanji was jolted from his deep thoughts when he almost walked right into a stop sign. He managed to pause right in time, backing up awkwardly and hiding his embarrassment with a cough. He really hoped no one saw that. Where was he anyway? He'd been following the flow of traffic for a while without paying attention.

After a few moments of disorientation and glaring at street signs, Sanji realized he was pretty close to that nice little Store/Bakery run by Rika and her mother. He might as well pop in and tell them he found Zoro and he was fine. He should buy some things for dinner while he was there. Support the little guy and all that.

What had he come here to do in the first place? Sanji scratched his chin thoughtfully as he crossed the street, seeing Shell Town's cute little plastic chairs and flowerpots in the distance. Oh yes, he was going to check out the restaurant closed down by Baroque Works. It should be somewhere in the area at least.

When the bright bell of Shell Town sounded in the store, Sanji smiled to Rika, who came running to him. He was a little flattered that he little girl remembered him, so he crouched to get eyelevel with her.

"Yo." Sanji grinned and Rika clasped her hands together, smiling back to Sanji.

"You came back! Did he like them? The rice balls!?" Rika urged, pulling on Sanji's shirt cutely with her wide eyes practically brimming with charm and anticipation. Sanji nodded once, giving her a thumbs up.

"He ate them all. Said they were delicious."

"YAY!" Rika called out, spinning on the spot so her striped dress fluttered around her knees. She was utterly adorable as she ran to her mother. "Mommy, Zoro is FINE! He was fine! I told you he was fine!"

Sanji got up, dusting himself off and fixing his tie before walking to the register, bowing to Rika's mother. "I'm terribly sorry my lady, but I seem to have forgotten the container for the rice balls. I will return it soon, I assure you."

Rika's mother laughed at this, a slight blush on her cheeks as she waved Sanji off. "Don't worry about that. We're just glad he's doing alright." she smiled modestly, patting Rika's head. "Right, Rika?"

Rika nodded to that, running to her place at the bakery register and swinging her legs playfully back and forth while humming. Sanji took a step back to allow a stray customer to get to the register, grabbing one of the shopping baskets and venturing into the store to pick up some ingredients for dinner.

When he reached the register the lunch rush was just about to start. A few people had filed in, buying various drinks and standing in a patient line at the bakery register to buy themselves some homemade quality sandwiches and cakes for lunch. Rika seemed like she was having a lot of fun; the customers either looked at her fondly or with amusement.

"Rika seems to be popular." Sanji smiled to Rika's mother as he pulled his items from his basket.

"She is, isn't she? She's a good girl. I'm very proud." Rika's mother smiled to Sanji, "Thank you for letting us know. Rika had been very worried this past week."

"If I can be so bold to ask-" Sanji began, already bagging his items as he spoke, "-What did the Marimo- I mean Zoro, do to deserve this affection?" Sanji raised his curled eyebrow in confusion when Rika's mother giggled into her hand.

"He doesn't really seem like the type to make friends easily, does he?" She said softly, handing Sanji the carton of eggs cautiously. "Without going into details, he did something very brave and kind and got into a lot of trouble for us."

"I see, I'm glad the grumpy bastard was helpful at least."

That told Sanji absolutely nothing. Great. Well, at least she didn't tell him Zoro was Rika's father or something. THAT would have been distressing. Not because it would prove Zoro was straight or anything, but because Zoro wasn't planning on seeing them any time soon.

What was he doing? He wasn't here to ask about ZORO, he was here to ask about that restaurant that closed! Sanji finished putting his shopping in a bag, handing over his card as he got his mind back on track.

"So I was looking for this restaurant called 'Wild Cherry'?" Sanji received his note and card and put it in his wallet, grabbing hold of his bag as he looked up at Rika's mother, who gave him a slightly sad and troubled smile.

"I'm afraid you'll have to find some other restaurant, Wild Cherry is under new management and currently being renovated." Rika's mother gestured out the window to a small distance down the opposing street with various boarded up windows and multiple Galley-La workers and electricians entering and exiting the building.

"Oh?" Sanji wasn't shocked, he'd been expecting it, but having it so close without noticing it came as a surprise. "Shame. I had heard good things about the place."

Sanji took a step back with a small bow as he took his leave, allowing the lunch rush forming behind him to get to the register. He waved at Rika as he left the store, promising the excitable little girl he'd come do business again here soon.

It took less than three minutes to make his way over to the former restaurant, he could hear hammering and drilling from inside, along with some shouts and unprofessional sounding clatters. Moments later, a large topless man with an impressive light colored beard that contrasted with his dark hair left the building.

"Good day, can I ask you a question?" Sanji started casually, lighting himself a cigarette as he looked up at the massive man.

"YES YOU CAN!" The man yelled cheerfully, causing Sanji to recoil slightly in shock and almost drop his grocery bag. Sanji clutched his shirt to try to calm his heart, staring in irritation at the man who just smiled like he hadn't thundered his response loudly enough to catch the attention of every single passerby.

"No need to be so loud, it's just a simple question." Sanji shook his head, fixing his cigarette as he pointed to the half covered up sign of 'Wild Cherry'. "What's going to replace this place?"

"WE'RE CURRENTLY MAKING THIS INTO A VERY NICE BAR." The man thundered with a large grin, causing Sanji's hair to blow from his face in the resulting gust. "IT WILL BE VERY HIGH CLASS. THEY EVEN WANT AN AQUARIUM," The man paused thoughtfully, scratching his beard before adding "-AND A FOUNTAIN."

"Tilestone!" A man with sunglasses and neatly trimmed beard appeared in the doorway, grumpy expression and one sharp lock of hair sticking out from the top of his head. "What are you yelling about?"

"LULU!" The loud man called Tilestone seemed happy to see his coworker and raised his voice even more. "THIS MAN ASKED A QUESTION." Tilestone gestured to Sanji with a massive wave of his hand.

"Yeah, ah, I was just curious to know what was going to replace this restaurant-" Sanji added, feeling embarrassed and self conscious over the fact that a lot of his fellow pedestrians were staring at the commotion.

"It's a bar." The man said with a nod, pushing the hair down on his head only to have a similar one poke out of his mustache. "A fancy one, too. Did you like this place? We haven't encountered any vermin, I don't understand why it was shut down."

"I never saw any." Sanji lied, he hadn't visited this restaurant, and now he'd never have the chance to. It was a little sad actually. "Who bought it? Is it a bar I know?" Sanji asked innocently, studying the expressions on their faces.

"I'm not sure, I didn't really ask-" Lulu said casually, pushing his strange point of hair back into his beard only for it to appear down his nose. "How about you, Tilestone?"

"I DON'T KNOW. YOU COULD ASK AT THE OFFICE IF YOU ARE CURIOUS." Tilestone pulled out a card from his pants pocket, a business card for Galley-La and passed it to Sanji. "IF YOU CALL THE TOP NUMBER, YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO GET IN TOUCH BETWEEN 8AM AND 5PM."

"Thanks. I'll be going now-" Sanji shrunk back, accepting the business card awkwardly with a wave as he started walking away, cheeks burning with embarrassment when he felt people's eyes on him as he passed them on the street.

Sanji stared at the business card, Galley-La company huh? What if Galley-La was in on this? He couldn't use his name, that much was sure. It wouldn't hurt after all if he just told them his name was Mr. Prince. He wasn't asking anything important.

He might want to use a phone that wasn't his own too, just to be safe. Sanji sighed and stopped walking, pinching the bridge of his nose to try to get rid of the headache building at the back of his skull. Was he maybe just being paranoid? Better safe than sorry of course, but was he just making up more problems than he had to?

Sanji took a deep breath to ease his nerves, straightening his back and fixing his tie as he switched hands for the grocery bag. He was going to go home and watch a movie. He was going to give himself two hours where he'd just forget about all of this and try to clear his head. Lingering on these things would just make him crazy.

Sanji walked around a corner, pausing in his steps when he stared at the green haired man further down the road disappear into a side street. Maybe he was crazy. Had that been Zoro? No. Zoro was at home. Zoro was injured. Zoro had been asleep when Sanji left.

Sanji started walking again, he really had to get over this strange THING with Zoro. Hallucinating him in the middle of the day was NOT alright. Sanji stopped at the side street, looking it over. There was no sign of Zoro between the rows of nice two story houses. Suburbs. He was in the suburbs.

Small gardens and trees, children playing in the yards and parents sitting on balconies looking down and keeping an eye on them. It was more silent here, less traffic, more laughter. A few small corner stores and a school.

The grass was green here, he supposed that the people who lived in the suburbs and were able to take care of their lawns could water them during a heat wave like this. Kids were playing in the sprinklers, splashing each other with bottles of water with high pitched screams and slips on soaked grass.

Sanji shook his head, he never really had this. He never needed this. This was stupid. Sanji lit himself another cigarette as he walked past the side street, glancing from street sign to street sign trying to get his bearings and locate himself. After a moment of mental mapping, Sanji made a sharp right across the street and walked home.

The closer he got to his narrow alley leading to his apartment, the faster he started walking. His body ached at the effort not to break into a run as he strode towards his home. When he entered the alley, the cats were there, laying on the half wall and looking at him like they were expecting him.

Sanji fished out his keys and drove them desperately into the lock, attempting to unlock the door when his keys refused to budge. The door was unlocked. Sanji paused for a second, numb as the realization sunk in. Why? Why was it unlocked?

He knew it of course, Sanji shouldered his door open, greeted by the empty living room. "Zoro?" Sanji called out, straining his ears, hoping for the sound of a shower or a rough slam of a door. Nothing. Sanji dropped his shopping on the floor and slammed his front door closed, running to the closet where he had hidden Zoro's sword.

Was it gone? Had Zoro found it? He tossed the boxes of Christmas decorations to the side, ignoring the clattering of what sounded like braking glass when he yanked out the sheet and unfurled it. The sword was there, it fell onto his lap with a clatter; the gold and white contrasting strongly with Sanji's suit.

Why? The sword was still here? Why had Zoro left? Sanji wrapped the sword back and replaced the decorations, closing the closet off as he ran from room to room in his apartment. He wasn't expecting to find Zoro anywhere, he knew exactly what his apartment sounded when he was alone in it.

Maybe someone had taken Zoro against his will? Sanji searched under the couch and the table housing Zoro's empty bottle of booze and the sewing kit from the night before. Nothing. No note. no message. Had the bastard honestly just up and left without even thanking him?

He hadn't known Zoro for long, but he had a hard time believing that the other man would leave his sword, it seemed very old and well cared for. Sanji collapsed in his chair, staring at the empty couch as he tried to make sense of the situation.

Why was he freaking out? This was GOOD. Zoro leaving him alone is exactly what he wanted. He WANTED to be alone in this. He WANTED Zoro out of his life. Sanji flicked the ashes off his cigarette and took a long drag to calm his nerves.

_Shit._ He bought way too much food for just himself. Sanji leant forward in his chair, cradling his face in his injured palm as he thought this over. It was alright. Zoro had left, Sanji had told him he could leave any time. he had expected this, he'd been _hoping_ for this.

He still had the sword though, didn't that mean Zoro would come back some day? Maybe Zoro hadn't left of his own will? Maybe he'd been forced to go with someone? If he was really on the run, he might have been threatened. If he was a former slave, he might have been found out.

Sanji let out a long sigh and got up, putting the groceries into the fridge distractedly before retrieving his laptop. He opened a private tab, he didn't want anyone to see the page he was about to visit in his history. He'd rather show the world his porn.

_Human Auction House online. _Sanji typed it, already feeling sick to his stomach as he watched the dark page load. He detested this place, the newsfeed was advertising a "fresh batch" for sale on Wednesday. He skimmed back in time on the feed, pictures of people with hope snuffed from their eyes and 'SOLD' stamps across their picture jumping out at him like monsters from a horror movie.

Those poor people. Sanji glanced at the small description besides the people, the original starting price and eventual bidding price side by side with their name and place of birth. Sickening. It was like cattle. Sanji closed the tab and looked away from a moment, unable to look at all those people and their dead hopeless eyes.

He tried searching 'Zoro'. But got nothing. He kept scrolling, setting the category to _'male'_. The list was narrowed down a little more than half, causing the knot of disgust to tighten in Sanji's stomach. He checked another filter, _'human'_ and a large amount; all fish- and mermen, were cut out of hit list.

With a groan of displeasure, Sanji hit another filter, _'young adult'_ and watched a solid amount of pages disappear from the list. He hit _'Physically Fit'_, and tried to ignore the blank and soulless faces of multiple attractive young men that flashed across his screen, labeled SOLD proudly with big red letters.

This could have been him.

Sanji scrolled through the rows of men, bile high in his throat as he tried not to think about what had happened to these people.

Zoro. He was looking for Zoro.

Please don't let Zoro be on this list.

Please.

The moment Sanji reached the end of the list without a sign of Zoro, he closed the tab and cleared his history for good measure. He all but tossed his laptop on the table, rattling the bottle and sending his sewing kit to the floor in his hurry.

He felt sick and his head was thrumming with relief, stress and worry all at once. There hadn't been too many people on that list, surely most of the slaves sold were either fishmen or women, but it was still a suspiciously low number.

It was probably because of powerful people who bought themselves wives and husbands and didn't want the world to find out they were slaves. Sanji swallowed thickly, trying to keep his bile down as he reached out to fix the sewing kit he tossed to the floor.

Damn it, the needle rolled under the couch.

Sanji reached out, careful not to prick his finger as he scraped the needle along the floor, finally managing to get a proper grip on it to pick it up. There was some dirt or something in the eye of it. Sanji tried blowing it out, but it didn't budge. Strange. using his fingers, he rubbed at it, the dirt crumbled out of the needle and onto his finger.

Funny. It sort of looked like blood. Sanji paused at that thought, looking at the dark red flaking dirt on his fingertip. Why would there be blood inside the needle? Sanji got up again, walked to the kitchen and opened the trash; finding used bandages and bloody cotton that smelled like rubbing alcohol.

"Calm down. There is an explanation for this." Sanji inhaled deeply, fishing the black thread out of the trash. He filled a glass of warm water experimentally, dropped the thread in it and watched the water turn red.

Okay. So the needle eye had blood in it and there was blood covered thread in the trash. Sanji couldn't help but snort in amusement over the stupid idea he just had. What a ridiculous idea this was; Zoro decided to sew his own wound up. But that was stupid, right? There was no anesthesia here and no one in their sane mind would attempt to do such a thing. Right?

Sanji was at the door before he realized it, pulling on his shoes and jacket. He was going out for a drink. To celebrate Zoro being gone. He wasn't going out to look for him. No. He wasn't going out to look for Zoro at all. He was going out to enjoy himself. That was all.

Sanji patted himself down for his keys and cigarettes, storming to the front door and ripping it open with a vengeance. He paused at the doorstep though; eye to eye with Zoro who stood on the other side of the door with a hand outstretched for the doorknob.

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

Thanks to **VioletClockworker** for being my beta!

Ooopps, I cliffhanger-ed.

The plot is thickening, stuff is going down and stakes are going up guys. What did you think about this one?


	10. Question

**Chapter 10 : Questions.**

* * *

Sanji stood paralyzed for a second on his doorstep and stared at Zoro. The swordsman awkwardly retracted the hand that he'd extended for the doorknob before Sanji pulled the door open. Zoro was standing one step lower than Sanji and looking up just slightly. He was wearing a black shirt and a jacket Sanji hadn't seen before.

Sanji bit his tongue and held back the flood of questions about Zoro's whereabouts, he wasn't his mother. He had told him he was free to go whenever, and he wasn't about to act like a frantic woman over it. Instead he lit himself a cigarette, leaning into the doorway and looking down at Zoro's increasingly anxious face.

"You left my door unlocked Marimo." Sanji frowned and blew smoke into the swordsman's face, enjoying the slightly guilty look he got.

"Yeah, I was planning on being back before you did." Zoro scratched his chin, glancing down at the multitude of cats that were currently rubbing themselves against him. "This damn alley is too small, I probably walked past it ten times."

"So you got lost?" Sanji teased, finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out on the steps. He took a step to the side, waiting for Zoro to enter his home.

"Not lost!" Zoro snarled in annoyance as he entered the small apartment, the room already vibrating with energy at Zoro's presence. Sanji finished his cigarette and stubbed it out, giving the curious cats at the door a roll of his eyes.

"It can't be helped, you haven't ever entered from that side of the alley anyway," Sanji closed the door, watching Zoro take a seat on the couch and stretch out his legs. "So you went to see a doctor then?" Sanji took a seat across the table from Zoro, watching the other man avoid eye contact.

"I wasn't gone for that long, idiot." Zoro huffed in annoyance, relaxing into the couch and tossing his jacket on the table with a heavy thud. "Do you really think anyone could get a doctor's appointment in less than a day with that blasted doctor-hunt of Wapol's going on?"

"So your bandages need changing then? I can see them all ruffled under your shirt." Sanji crossed his legs as his eyes followed the line of crumpled fabric under Zoro's tight black shirt. "I'll wrap them properly, so take it off."

"Perverted cook," Zoro frowned at that, crossing his arms slowly across his chest. "I can do it perfectly fine myself."

"Oh? Is that so?" Sanji stood up to get the roll of band aid, tossing it over to the swordsman who just barely managed to catch it as Sanji sat down across the table. "Let's see it then."

Zoro paused at that, looking at the band aid for a long moment before rubbing the back of his neck and grimacing. "These bandages will do for the rest of the day, no need to change them."

"Zoro. You tried sewing yourself up with my suit thread, didn't you?"

Sanji decided to stop dancing around the subject as he leant over the table to glare at Zoro. Zoro's dark eyes opened slowly and looked directly through him, his eyes flashing with guilt for a second before he shook his head with a grimace.

"I didn't TRY" Zoro huffed in annoyance, frowning at Sanji before looking off into the kitchen. "I succeeded."

Sanji let out a long pained groan at the confirmation, bringing his hands up to cover his face as he leant back in his seat in defeat.

"You really are a moss brain." Sanji sighed into his injured palm, rubbing his temples as he forced himself to look back at Zoro, who was giving him a displeased scowl with his ears slightly tinted in red.

"As I said, there's no need to fix the bandages." Zoro crossed his arms, badly concealing a wince in the process.

"Well, if it was such a great 'success', why can't I see?" Sanji challenged with a smirk, watching Zoro twitch a little from the tone. He could see the tendons in Zoro's neck tighten and slack as he swallowed thickly.

"Fine." Zoro sat up better in the couch, pushing his haramaki down his hips to get to the hem of the shirt. "Just don't freak out or anything, it's not as bad as it looks." Zoro rolled his eyes as he peeled the shirt away from his abdomen, dragging it up his body and over his head, jangling his earrings in the process.

Sanji watched as the bandages were revealed, occasional red blotches of blood soaking through the layers of bandages. Sanji moved his seat from the chair to the coffee table, sitting in front of Zoro to get a better look at the bloodied bandages.

Zoro jolted slightly in surprise when he got the shirt off his head and noticed Sanji had moved closer while his vision was obscured. He frowned and tossed the shirt to the side, leaning into the couch again as he gestured to the bandages.

"Happy?"

"No. There's blood in the bandages, Marimo." Sanji snorted, he wasn't happy in the slightest. "Show me how bad it is." Sanji grabbed Zoro's discarded shirt and folded it neatly, tossing it back in place.

Zoro grumbled something rude under his breath and started pulling off his bandages, layer by blood covered layer he peeled them off to reveal the mess underneath. Sanji grit his teeth when Zoro pulled the last layer away, his torso exposed to Sanji's disapproving stares.

Not that the torso was displeasing, not at all actually. The slightly swollen and red lines of pulled skin and bloody pricks were though. Sanji could see the black thread he usually used to mend his suits cut softly into skin and tissue as it struggled to keep the flesh together.

"Zoro..." Sanji breathed in a mix of annoyance and pain as he raised his hand, tracing the edges of the rough and crooked stitches. "Didn't it hurt?" The skin felt unnaturally warm under Sanji's fingers, but he wasn't sure if Zoro's skin was always unnaturally hot or if there might be an infection brewing.

"Maybe. A little." Zoro rumbled, the sound vibrating against Sanji's fingertips and causing a slight shudder to travel up the small of the cook's back.

"You DID disinfect the needle and thread at least?" Sanji almost pleaded, tearing his eyes from the horrendous sewing job and up to Zoro's face.

Zoro's eyes instantly averted to avoid his, and the swordsman scratched his nose awkwardly. "I used fire on the needle to disinfect it, the thread I just soaked in disinfectant."

Sanji sighed and rubbed at his temples, getting up to get the first aid kit. "I'm going to clean it up."

Zoro snarled at that, grabbing Sanji's arm to stop him. "No. I spent too long putting these in for you to pull them out. Stop fussing over things that aren't important."

Sanji glared at Zoro for that. What sort of monster tries to sew himself together and then calls the mess 'not important'? He yanked his arm out of the swordsman's grip, slowly raising a leg and placing it on the back of the couch besides Zoro's head.

"I'm not pulling them out. You've made such a terrible mess of yourself I'm not confident enough to tamper with them." Sanji hissed in anger, leaning over without moving his leg, Zoro's eyes never leaving his face. "-but you _are_ going to let me clean them up to prevent them getting infected, or you can eat shit and drink nothing but water."

"So we're having shit for dinner then?" Zoro batted Sanji's leg away from his head, rolling his shoulders with a small crack of joints and resting his arms over the edge of the couch. The stitches pulled slightly, and a drop of blood raced down the uneven road of Zoro's stomach.

"Stop pulling your shitty stitches!" Sanji hissed as he withdrew his leg and stomped to the kitchen. "I'm not going to tell you what we're eating if you keep talking shit like that." He returned with the first aid kit, sighing as he decided to keep it on the living room table from now on.

He handed Zoro a cotton swab soaked in disinfectant and some cream, getting his own cotton swab soaked as the swordsman started to dab at his cut. Sanji didn't dab at it as gently, he slid the cotton closely along the stitches and wound causing Zoro to hiss in pain and lean away from it.

"Careful-"

"You should have thought about that BEFORE you tried sewing yourself together." Sanji said in annoyance, wiping blood from the thread and using his soaked fingers to move the thread to clean under it. Zoro eased into the pain and continued dabbing at his wound, a frown on his face as they worked in silence.

"Why do you hate doctors so much?" Sanji glanced up, taking in Zoro's slightly thoughtful expression. "Is there something you don't want them to see?"

"No, what would that be?" Zoro huffed, rubbing the cotton against his skin with grit teeth. "There are some doctors I don't hate, but I'm not going to see any of Wapol's doctors, that's for sure."

Sanji couldn't argue with that. Wapol's doctors were incredibly good at what they did, but they were expensive and each case had to be heard out and approved by Wapol. It was ridiculous, but Wapol had the money to make the rules, and put any other doctors in the area out of business.

For a while Sanji and Zoro remained silent, cleaning the cuts and stitches thoroughly.

"Are you an escaped slave?" Sanji said casually, noticing Zoro's hand slow down as Sanji stared determinedly into the pattern on the couch. "It wouldn't change anything; I would just like to know if I need to look out for something."

There was silence until Sanji glanced up to look at Zoro, who was staring at him with a mix of confusion and admiration. Or he could just be feeling sick, Sanji could never tell with this bastard and his bizarre facial expressions.

"No." Zoro eventually said and got back to cleaning his wound. "I'm not a slave and I never was."

"Is that the truth?" Sanji asked with a raise of his eyebrow, Zoro sounded sincere enough when he rolled his eyes and grinned to him, the sight made Sanji's heart jump a little in his chest.

"Yes. It's the truth." Zoro added with an annoyed sigh that sounded slightly affectionate to Sanji's ears. He ignored it though, he was probably just projecting. Zoro didn't sound like he was lying, and Sanji's mind put the idea to rest.

They finished cleaning up the mess that was Zoro's skin in comfortable silence. It was definitely going to scar, quite horribly too if the healing edges were any indication. At least Zoro was going to be able to hide it if he wanted to. Sanji tossed the cotton bud onto the table, pulling band aid from the roll.

"Are you seriously worrying about me?" Zoro asked after a moment, his tone split between amused and curious. Sanji glanced up at him and tapped the end of the band aid into his shoulder, demanding that he hold it still. He wasn't going to answer that.

"You've known me for two days." Zoro continued when Sanji remained silent, his tone slipping into the same irritated growl Sanji was used to. Sanji wrapped the bandages tightly around Zoro's torso with practiced ease. He could feel Zoro become more agitated the longer he remained silent, but he didn't expect the other man to grab his wrist and lean over to make eye contact with him. "Oi. Cook."

Sanji grimaced and felt his cheeks flush slightly, yeah, he knew. It was odd. It needed an explanation, but Sanji didn't have one that sounded cool. Zoro didn't seem to sympathize though, since he didn't let go of Sanji's wrist. Sanji supposed it wouldn´t help to give Zoro his flimsy reasoning.

"When I picked your ass out of the gutter back then," Sanji began, pulling his hand free since Zoro's grip slacked the moment he started talking, "I took responsibility for your safety, and don't give me any shit about it." Sanji sighed and sat back, daring Zoro to talk back to him.

The swordsman didn't argue, he gave Sanji a long and suspicious look but eventually settled back into the couch. "You're bizarre, you know that?" Zoro sighed as he tugged slightly on his bandages. "Weirdo-brow."

"Moss-brain." Sanji snorted and started wrapping Zoro up again.

"Pervert cook." Zoro shot back with a smirk.

"Third-rate swordsman."

"Shit-cook."

"Marimo."

"Curly."

The living room fell into a comfortable silence as Sanji finished wrapping up Zoro's chest and shoulder. Sanji tucked the end of the bandages under the folds at Zoro's collarbone, sitting back to admire his work. He was getting pretty good at bandaging thanks to all this practice.

"There; it's completely different when you do it properly." Sanji said with a satisfied nod and lit himself a cigarette, glancing up at Zoro's face and freezing under his stare. The swordsman was looking at him with almost suffocating intensity.

Naturally Sanji had to be close to wrap the bandages, but now that he had no such excuse, he was much too close. His shins were resting against the couch on either side of Zoro's legs, Sanji felt his cheeks heat up, suddenly overly aware that his knees were brushing up against Zoro's thighs.

They were so close. So terribly close that it wouldn't take much more than leaning forward a little to breech the paper thin wall of personal space that already strained under Zoro's gaze. For a second Sanji wondered; if he leant forward, would Zoro do the same?

The thought was quickly dispelled when he remembered that he barely knew the other man, and he didn't need to get Zoro more tangled up in the mess his life was currently in. He didn't need to complicate anything further. _He didn´t need Zoro in his life._

Sanji pulled back and stood up, stretching out lazily as he tried to dispel the intense atmosphere.

"Gotta get started on dinner, it takes about 20 minutes to marinade." Sanji half yawned through his stretch, his muscles singing in the pull before he turned to look at Zoro, who was looking at him with an annoyed expression.

"What's for dinner?" The swordsman tried again, same challenge in his voice as he frowned. The swordsman pulled his shirt over his head with a jangle of earrings. "Just tell me already!"

"Ginger Glazed Mahi Mahi" Sanji said casually, blowing smoke towards the other man whose forehead drew together in an annoyed furrow. Sanji couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Zoro's jaw clench in frustration.

"That tells me shit!" Zoro snarled in outrage, getting off the couch with a huff as Sanji doubled over to laugh at the swordsman's anger. Sanji kept laughing as he stumbled into the kitchen, followed by Zoro who crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Sanji prepare the marinade.

Sanji's laughter died down over the course of the preparation, a single chuckle slipping out as he placed the fish into the oil and covered it up. He handed Zoro the plate, gesturing to the fridge. "Put it in the fridge Marimo."

"So it's fish?" Zoro frowned at the cook but did as he was told; slipping the plate inside with uncharacteristically careful movements. "You could have just said that, instead of this gingerly hazed something."

"Ginger Glazed- Never mind." Sanji sighed as he gave up explaining the technical things, "It's fish."

Sanji started setting the table, Zoro decided to join and spent an age rummaging through the cupboards. A loud clatter of glass and victorious grumbling from Zoro eventually annoyed Sanji enough and the cook turned to the swordsman.

"What are you looking for?" Sanji grumbled, flicking ashes off his cigarette before he leant over to see what Zoro was looking for in the glass cupboard.

"Big glasses. If you're going to make me use one, I'd like one that at least fills my palm properly." Zoro grumbled, sticking his hand into the cupboard and pulling out a large beer-glass Sanji had forgotten he had. It was dusty and the cook couldn't remember using it once since he moved to this apartment.

Zoro raised it triumphantly, the grimy sheen extremely visible in the direct light. Sanji snatched it back in horror and embarrassment. Zoro's brow furrowed in annoyance and he tried to pull the glass from Sanji's iron grip.

"Leave it alone Marimo! This ugly old thing's dirty and doesn't match anything." Sanji gestured to the nearly set table in exasperation. The glass was way too big and would look like a damn vase next to the plates. No to mention it had some ugly red and gold logo on it from a bar that didn't exist anymore.

"I can clean it." Zoro pulled the glass from Sanji's hands and placed it in the sink, brow arched in amusement at Sanji's disgust when the blond looked at the slick of dust left on his hands. Sanji didn't get a chance to argue before Zoro started scrubbing at the glass.

"How did you even know it was THERE?" Sanji hissed when Zoro raised the now much cleaner glass. The logo was slightly flaking and the gold paint was matte, but at least it was see through. Zoro put it down on the table with a slightly damp _'thunk'_.

"It's not like it has anything to do with you." Zoro sat down in 'his' seat, raising 'his' glass with a content expression. "I thought I saw it yesterday when I was looking for the glasses."

"Stop going through my things, damn Marimo!" Sanji aimed a kick to Zoro's head, secretly hoping it would connect with the infernal glass in Zoro's hand. The swordsman managed to move the glass out of the way, blocking the kick with his forearm and rattling the tableware.

"I don't see why it bothers you what glass I drink from!" Zoro snarled through a grin as he got up from the table, blocking a kick aimed for his side. "You're the one who wants me to use a glass anyway!"

Sanji wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, he wanted Zoro to use a glass and the man was cooperating. But something about it just pissed him off so much. Zoro pissed him off like no one else. Not Patty or Carne, the swordsman just got under his skin even when he was cooperating.

"It's not the glass! You are being a shitty houseguest!" Sanji snapped in annoyance, the stress of the day winding out of his body as he crouched down to attempt to trip the Marimo.

"I'm not a guest! You brought me here without being asked!" Zoro jumped backwards to avoid a kick, tossing his glass on the table with a clatter in the hurry to bring up his arms to block.

"Stop making it sound like I moss-napped you!"

"MOSS-NAPPING?" Zoro laughed as he blocked Sanji's kick for his head, Sanji's leg connected to Zoro's shoulder and the other man grabbed hold of it around the knee, arms flexing with the strain of preventing Sanji from withdrawing it.

"Let go of my leg, Marimo!" Sanji huffed indignantly as Zoro took a step closer, upsetting Sanji's balance. Sanji's face flushed slightly at the teasing smirk on Zoro's face, and in a desperate attempt to cover it up before the situation got awkward, Sanji reached out and pushed Zoro's face to the side.

"Damn it Curly brow-" Zoro slurred through squished cheek as he grimaced. "Just admit you lost!"

"I didn't lose" Sanji barked in outrage, not sure exactly what he wasn't losing at. Was it the argument or this sorry excuse for a fight? Sanji was trying to pull his leg free of Zoro's grip when the swordsman reached out and started pulling on Sanji's cheek.

They fight devolved into a childish pulling of hair and clothing with both of them grinning stubbornly, neither refusing to give up first. It wasn't until the doorknob of the front door rattled impatiently and the lock clicked that both of them froze in place and watched the door sling open with a slam.

"EGGPLANT." Zeff barged in, the kitchen where the two of them were fighting in clear view from the front door. Sanji felt his face heat up in embarrassment, hastily pulling his hands away from Zoro like he'd been burned.

"Eggplant?" Zoro echoed with a confused expression before glancing at Sanji with an amused grin. "_Eggplant_?"

"Old man!" Sanji snarled in embarrassment, stomping into the living room. "What are you doing here?"

"Usually when I tell you to take time off, you show up to work anyway." Zeff huffed in annoyance, scowling at Zoro who was staring at his peg leg. "Today you didn't even call to bitch over coming to work, so I decided to stop by to clean up your dead body."

Sanji rolled his eyes, faintly aware that, yes; the old man had a point. He had completely forgotten about checking if the Baratie needed him today. With all the mess at the police station and that restaurant and then Zoro being gone, he'd forgotten.

"Sorry old man, I forgo-" Sanji was unable to finish his sentence when Zeff's peg leg connected with his knees and tripped him over.

"The Baratie is still in place you brat. I'm not here to bring you back." Zeff scowled as he stepped over Sanji, making his way over to Zoro. "So you're the shitty-bastard he pulled from the gutter?"

Zoro didn't move, glaring at Zeff as the old man gave him a once over and walked around him like he was up for sale. Sanji jumped to his feet, embarrassed for Zeff's scrutiny and already dreading what was sure to follow.

"You have better taste in men than women." Zeff eventually declared, patting Zoro's shoulder once and nodding to Sanji approvingly. Zoro's brows rose up to his forehead in disbelief before he practically erupted with bellowing amused laughter.

"Shitty old Geezer!" Sanji hissed at Zeff, cheeks burning as he lit himself a cigarette. He hadn't expected that, given how Zeff had never been partial to his partners. Zoro kept laughing, and Sanji had a feeling it was more from the redness in his face than Zeff's words. "Zoro's just a friend! I told you."

"At least he looks like he can handle himself." Zeff said with a huff, turning to Zoro with an approving twitch of his mustache. "How's about it boy? You happen to fancy men?"

Sanji's eyes widened in horror, Zeff did not just ask Zoro that.

Zoro's laughter stopped instantly, his jaw snapping shut in slight shock as he rose up and looked at the old man's face. Sanji jumped in between them before Zoro could take offence to the shitty old man's remark. The younger blond caught Zeff by the wrist and practically dragged him out of the apartment, slamming the front door and closing them off from Zoro.

"What are you doing, old man!?" Sanji hissed through grit teeth, cigarette forgotten between his fingers. Sanji could feel the redness in his skin. His old man was so terribly embarrassing.

"Asking the man if he's gay." Zeff answered in such a calm way that Sanji felt his jaw slack, his shoulders dropped as he rubbed at his temples. Zeff huffed impatiently and folded his arms across his chest. "Knowing you, you probably don't even know for certain."

"Shitty old man-" Sanji started with a shaky breath, bringing the cigarette up to his lips and giving it a hard suck in frustration. "I've known Zoro for _two days_. I'm not-"

"You claimed you wanted to marry a woman after one 4 hour date." Zeff pointed out with an arch of his eyebrow, scowling around the words like the memory alone gave him a migraine; which it probably did. "You have on multiple occasions proclaimed love to our customers after seeing them once-"

"That's different-" Sanji interrupted with an annoyed sigh, sharply cut off by Zeff's wooden leg bruising his shin. He jumped backwards and caught himself on the doorknob. He could see Zoro moving around the kitchen through the small window besides the door.

"Why is it different? Because this time there might _be_ something there?" Zeff asked with a huff, rendering Sanji mute with shock. There was silence on the doorstep as Sanji desperately tried coming up with an excuse. Zeff gave up before Sanji came up with anything and started walking down the stairs.

"I might be an old man eggplant, but seeing you youngsters wasting time like this makes me sick." Zeff made his way down the stairs. "If I see you at the Baratie tomorrow, I'll break your ribs."

"That's why you came here? To threaten me into not showing up to work tomorrow?" Sanji finished the last drag of his cigarette before crushing the stub under his heel. "That's a pretty shitty excuse, even for you."

Zeff paused by exit to the alley, looking out into the traffic as he spoke. "I told you about Crocodile, you left and I didn't hear from you." Zeff said casually, looking over his shoulder at Sanji who was frozen still. "I assumed you went and did something stupid."

"I don't need you to check up on me old man." Sanji practically hissed, guilt over keeping his old man worried clawing at his chest. "I won't do anything stupid. I can handle it."

"A shrimp like you doesn't get to tell me what I can and can't do." Zeff huffed with indignation, frowning at Sanji. "If you don't call tomorrow, I'll assume you died and sell your shit-hole apartment."

"I'll call." Sanji waved his old man as he watched him get into his car and drive off. Sanji lingered on the doorstep for a moment, thinking about Zeff's backwards way of showing affection before he re-entered his apartment.

It was just starting to get dark out, Zoro had turned on the lights in the kitchen and sat on the couch watching TV. Zoro looked over the back of the couch and gave Sanji an amused grin, pushing himself upright enough to practically leer at Sanji.

"Your old man is… energetic," Zoro teased, his eyes bright with amusement. "I can see where you get it from, 'Eggplant'."

"Don't use that name, bastard. That one is off-limits." Sanji rolled his eyes as he got back into the kitchen to finish the fish he was making. He only had to fry it for a few minutes and it was ready. Zoro joined him in the kitchen, expression incredibly smug as he watched Sanji slide the fish onto the oiled pan.

"He's stubborn and very impulsive; don't read into the shit he says." Sanji sighed in exasperation, rubbing his temple with a free hand and turning the fish over with a spatula. "Just pretend he was never here." Sanji dished out the fish, handing Zoro one of them before taking his own to the table.

Zoro sat down with a clatter of plastic, pouring himself a drink into his glass. Sanji scowled at it and rolled his eyes when Zoro raised it victoriously. Sanji watched Zoro take a bite of the perfectly cooked fish, the combination of sweet and sour seemingly blowing his mossy mind.

Sanji didn't ask. He knew what he would get if he did. Seeing Zoro eating like the food was made of precious metals or clouds, with slow languid movements and barely concealed groans was compliment enough. When Sanji took a sip of his glass, looking at Zoro do the same from his own oversized one, he couldn't help but wonder what Zoro's answer to Zeff's question would have been if he hadn't interrupted.

_Did_ Zoro like men?

* * *

To be continued!

Some ZoSan fluff because there wasn't any of it in the last chapter. C: Enjoyed it? What was your favorite fluffy moment? I had a blast writing Zeff, I really like that old man. I wish he'd talked to Zoro more in the cannon. :C

Thanks to **VioletClockworker** for being my beta!


	11. Chase

**Chapter 11 - Chase**

* * *

When Sanji finished his dinner, Zoro was scooping the last of the potatoes in the bowl onto his plate; with his dining fork.

"Don't use that! You're eating with that fork." Sanji growled and leant back in his creaking chair, lighting himself a post-dinner cigarette. "You will get your gross drool all over my potatoes."

Zoro glanced up at him, shoulders relaxed as he stuck his fork in one of the potatoes and raised it to his mouth, tipping the empty bowl that previously housed the baked potatoes. "There's nothing left to get drool on." Zoro grinned insufferably smug as he popped the potato in his mouth, cheek bulging as he chewed.

"You should still use the proper tools, damn Neanderthal." Sanji grimaced and sighed, scooping the empty containers and plates up to bring to the sink.

"I'll do the washing this time," Zoro offered, cleaning off his plate with a scrape of his fork as he stood up. The chair fell over, causing the swordsman to growl in annoyance as he picked it up.

"The washing can wait for a bit." Sanji blew smoke into the air, opening the kitchen window to let in some fresh air. "I want to watch the news, and I don't want you breaking my plates."

"Watch the news?" Zoro dropped his plate into the sink with a clatter and a splash as his brow furrowed, lukewarm water flying dangerously close to Sanji's shirt. The cook took a cautious step back, frowning at Zoro when the other man arched a brow at him.

"Is something special going on?" Zoro continued, drying his hands on a towel as he turned to follow Sanji into the living room. It was almost 6 pm, early dinner and they were just in time for the 6 pm news.

"Not really, I just have a feeling." Sanji said casually, shrugging off the weird look Zoro sent him. The blond let himself drop into his chair, reaching out for the remote and turning on the news with a lazy flick of his hand.

Mr.1 was supposed to do something news-worthy on Sunday. Today was Saturday, but Sanji wanted to get the feel for what was happening now so he would be better prepared to spot Mr.1's handy work, or get clues to prevent it. He couldn't tell Zoro.

He glanced over to where the swordsman was laying on the sofa, stretched out and gingerly tracing the wound on his chest with absent minded fingers over the fabric of his shirt. Zoro let out a big yawn as the news jingle chimed through the room, images of events and people flashing on the screen before "GRAND LINE NEWS" slowly zoomed in and obscured them.

Sanji was usually more partial to getting his news from a more practical source, such as news websites and papers during breaks at work. Zoro's eyes were half lidded and there was a sleepy daze on his features. He looked so different when he was relaxed. Zoro looked at him and Sanji averted his gaze to the TV instantly.

The news anchor looked serious and patted some papers on the table, leaning over and looking into the camera intensely.

"Breaking News: The first devil fruit user on the moon, Enel, refuses to return." The man said in a very serious tone, looking to the side when a picture of a man with obscenely long earlobes and sleepy looking eyes appeared besides him. "After making a landing in the first ever Devil-fruit powered space ship, he has claimed the moon as his own and apparently renamed it _'Fairy Vearth'_-"

Zoro and Sanji both erupted with laughter, heads falling backwards as they guffawed in unison. Sanji almost swallowed his cigarette in the sudden outburst, beating on his thigh as he laughed. Zoro was laughing too, tears at the corner of his eyes as he rolled sideways on the couch to try to spare his seams.

Zoro suddenly stopped laughing, wincing in pain as he clutched his side. "Ouch… that was bad…" Zoro groaned, leaning back in his couch and pulling up his shirt to look at the seams at his hip. There was a small dot of blood on the bandages, but when Zoro slid them cautiously up, nothing turned out to be ripped.

"Be careful." Sanji frowned at the other man, wiping tears from his eyes after his fit of laughter. "If those shitty seams rip, you WILL need a doctor."

"Mind your own business." Zoro grumbled, leaning back on the couch to look at the TV. The news about that bizarre astronaut was over and the anchor glanced down to his papers, his face perfectly composed.

"A large pile of stolen goods was discovered less than an hour ago, buried under a tangerine grove in the Cocoyashi district," The man began and Sanji felt the atmosphere in the room grow cold. He looked over to Zoro, who was staring at the screen in a mix of anger and shock. Sanji turned his attention to the TV again, glancing over to Zoro when pictures of the scene flashed on screen.

"The police received an anonymous tip this afternoon, and despite one of the locals attempting to obstruct the march of justice, discovered the large amount of money." There was a picture of a stitched up looking man supporting a blue haired woman, that same woman was clutching her shoulder and screaming something incoherent, her voice muted and her face pinched in agony.

Sanji frowned at this, the woman was obviously upset! How could the damn police make such a delicate flower suffer so? A low growl from the couch grabbed Sanji's attention, Zoro was staring at the screen, white knuckled grip on the cushion and his jaw clenched in fury.

Sanji glanced back to the screen just in time to see a beautiful orange haired woman practically flailing to get between the police and the large bushels; she was easily pushed aside by a police officer who started digging up the grove.

Sanji frowned at the treatment of the lady, his eye twitching and his legs itching for a good kick to the commanding police officer's rat like face. The orange haired woman tore herself from the stitched man's grip, running away from the scene before the police were able to stop her. Her face was drawn in anger and frustrated tears dripping from her eyes.

The moment the report was cut off, Zoro stood up with his fists clenched, looking at Sanji with such fire and determination in his eyes Sanji's heart fluttered.

"Give me my sword." Zoro's voice was so wracked with barely contained anger Sanji actually felt a shudder travel down his back. The swordsman's face was a strange mixture of perfectly contained fury and intense bloodlust.

"W-what for?" Sanji managed to gasp out as soon as he started breathing again, wide eyed in shock at the man's sudden change of personality. It was almost like someone flipped a switch sending Zoro from calm to livid in one second flat.

"I need my sword. NOW. Is it in this apartment?" Zoro said in a low growl, his voice easily an octave deeper than Sanji had gotten used to, the low husky rumble seemed to fill the room completely. Sanji wanted to say no, but Zoro was looking at his with such intensity Sanji was sure he'd choke on the lie if it tried to leave his lips.

"Y-Yeah. I'll get it." Sanji said cautiously, getting to his feet and eyeing Zoro curiously as the other man shrugged on his jacket. Sanji opened the closet, unwrapped the sword and held it out to Zoro, who snatched it from his hands and ran out the door without a word.

Sanji was left alone in the apartment, staring at the wide open door in shock as Zoro disappeared down the mouth of the alley. The news changed to weather, a cheerful woman pointing at complex charts and trying to explain the recent drought with scientific words Sanji could barely register.

Zoro just left.

Sanji felt his arms shake at the thought, anger lighting up his guts and his face twitching in fury. No. Zoro wasn't going to leave like this. Sanji walked to the door and slammed it locked, running down the street after Zoro. He was going to get a 'thank you' from the man even if he had to kick it out of him.

Sanji had never been outrun before, He sprinted through the streets, cigarette dangling off his lips and his hair and tie fluttering after him. He wasn't even breathing properly, holding his breath as he sprinted down the street towards the silhouette of Zoro in the distance. The swordsman could run, Sanji had to give him points for that.

The green haired target of Sanji's fury jumped over parked cars and almost knocked over people in his way, jumping low fences like hurdles in a sprint as he crossed private gardens. Sanji was almost certain that the Marimo was trying to shake him off, the man kept making sharp random turns and going in circles.

Whatever he was trying to do, Zoro wasn't going to succeed. Sanji was going to catch up, and he was going to clock the rude bastard in the throat with his heel. THEN he'd make the bastard thank him for scraping him off the pavement.

Sanji jumped over a car that had quite rudely stopped at a red light blocking half the crosswalk. The driver blared his horn at him as Sanji passed, but the blond was too determined to catch up to Zoro to care. People that looked back in curiosity of the noise noticed Sanji and immediately parted for him to pass.

He was gaining on Zoro; the man had incredible stamina, especially for someone with a wound like his. Zoro passed an alley while running, and Sanji could see a random guy with a large sword run out of the alley and wave and call out for Zoro. The man was wearing hideous shorts and a strange red hat. Sanji couldn't hear what the man was yelling, but it seemed friendly enough. Zoro looked over his shoulder, seemingly not noticing Sanji but yelling something at the other man, who pointed down a side street and both of them raced out of view.

When Sanji rounded the corner, he couldn't see them anymore. They were gone. He LOST them. Sanji snarled and kicked a wall, leaving a deep dent in the concrete. Sanji jumped backwards and looked up at the house, feeling bad for damaging someone's home.

Except it wasn't a home. The house looked completely abandoned and actually very damaged. Sanji paused and lit himself a cigarette, glancing around the neighborhood he was currently in. Rows upon rows of abandoned houses, some of them very damaged and broken windows lined the street he was standing in.

HE didn't know about this, how could there be an abandoned neighborhood without anyone talking about it? He took a few steps down the street, looking at the abandoned homes as he glanced around looking for the street sign. He passed a small wrecked and empty cornerstone before he found a bent iron plate labeled "Gosa" dangling from a wall.

What would Zoro want here? Was this where he lived? Sanji's curled brow furrowed in confusion, still agitated at the fact that Zoro had managed to outrun him. Well, technically he hadn't been running faster than him, but if the damn Marimo was hiding, he'd kick him so hard in the gut he'd puke his own organs.

Sanji paused and listened, thinking about the direction Zoro and that other guy had been running towards. Zoro ran off just after seeing that news clip, but the tangerine farm it had happened in was rather far away and in the opposite direction. Sanji blew smoke into the air, about to give up when he heard something.

The sounds of distant footsteps grew louder, and Sanji ran towards the sound with fury and rounded a corner just in time to see a black haired man with sunglasses in the evening run past across the empty street. The guy had a tattoo on his face and the same clunky looking sword that the other guy had.

With new target in sight, the cook started running, careful not to catch up as he followed his prey down a couple of narrow streets and over a fence. They crossed a yard until they came to a wide open space surrounded by derelict buildings. In the center of the open space, which Sanji assumed had once been a central park for this district, was a large building surrounded by thick concrete walls and a large iron gate.

How could this place be real? In a massive city like the Grand Line, how could there just be an entire district, not even an hour's drive from the busy main street that looked this _dead_? Sanji felt chills rise on his arms at the thought, not even a single green lawn in sight.

He saw the guy he'd been following stop at the large iron gate and meet up with the guy in the strange red hat that Zoro had joined. They were talking in anxious flails, faces close together as they seemed to be yelling something at each other's throats.

Sanji caught up, he saw them turn to look at him, eyes slightly wide in surprise as Sanji sprinted in their direction and swung a kick at them only to stop his foot an inch away from their terrified faces. The men were frozen in horror, eyes travelling up Sanji's leg and to his furious expression.

"Zoro." Sanji was panting, his hair tousled and expression furious. "WHERE?" His voice was almost a hiss, the duo swallowed thickly, staring at him in disbelief as they trembled in place, clinging to each other for support as they took a terrified step backwards, falling over each other.

"Z-Zoro aniki?" The guy with the face tattoo said in a mix of breathless wonder and mortal terror. "How do you know him?"

"W-we won't tell you anything about him if you want t-to hurt-" The other, the shaved head one with the peculiar hat started with false courage in his trembling voice, but was cut off by a loud crash and the loud concerned scream of "ZORO!" from the other side of the tall concrete wall.

Sanji lowered his leg, watching the small cloud of dust rising into the air on the other side of the wall, hearing clattering of stone on stone. The two men started arguing something about Zoro not needing any more trouble and desperately trying to grab Sanji to hold him down when the cook jumped the wall and perched on it like the cats in his alley.

The inside of the walls were a mess, there was rubble everywhere and a terrified looking guy with a long nose was aiming his slingshot, a SLINGSHOT at a fishman. FISHMAN. Who in their right mind would take on a fishman with a child's toy!? The guy seemed to realize how feeble that was, if his trembling knees were any indication.

The fishman didn't seem threatened in the slightest, sitting on a pile of rubble with a smug expression and pointing a gun at a young woman with orange hair. She was crying, slumped down on the ground in a powerless heap and covering her tear streaked face in terror with her hands. Wide eyes barely visible from the gaps between her fingers.

Sanji growled as he tried to fight the urge to rush the fishman and kick his arm hard enough to break it. He didn't know what was going on, there were three more fishmen in the concrete yard and he didn't want to risk the woman getting shot. How DARE that bastard hold a crying woman at gunpoint?!

There was a clatter of rock as a pile to the right of him seemed to erupt, a blood streaked, tanned arm breaking the surface of the pile and fingers drawing deep valleys into the smaller of the rubble as Zoro rose out of the pile, blood at the corner of his mouth and temple.

"Z-ZORO!" The terrified guy yelled in joy, shuffling a little closer to Zoro. "You're okay!" The guy said with almost desperate joy in his voice.

" ZORO!" another voice, not Sanji's own, sounded from across the yard, this time coming from another pile of rubble, looking more like half a building at the edge of the yard. The owner was a black haired guy, seemingly younger than himself. The guy looked concerned and tired, and his wrist was shackled to a metal bar by sturdy looking cuffs.

Sanji was frozen in shock as the situation started sinking in. These were Zoro's friends? That orange haired woman from TV that had been involved in the money-stash case was here, clearly Zoro was here to assist her. Why else would he have run off as soon as he saw her on the news?

Did this mean that this woman was his girlfriend?

Jealously bubbled up in Sanji's chest, purely because the Marimo did not deserve to be with a knock out like her when he didn't even know proper table manners. The two guys behind Sanji finally managed to scale the wall, tears in their eyes and they called out to Zoro desperately.

"ANIKI!"

Zoro broke free of the rubble, clutching his white sword tightly as he stumbled towards an octopus fishman. Sanji cringed, fishmen were always a little unsettling to look at. All those extra arms the octopus was sporting looked down right creepy.

"Hold on Luffy! I'll get you out in a second!" Zoro breathlessly called out to the guy buried in rubble across the yard, who was apparently called Luffy. The black haired young man raised his arm to cheer at the promise, only to flop limp down on the ground with a groan of exertion and a weak tug on the handcuff.

"Instead of worrying about HIM, you should worry about yourself." The large fishman with jagged nose laughed, pointing at the swordsman with webbed fingers. "Hacchi, finish him off." The man said with a smug turn of his hand, pointing a webbed thumb down in Zoro's direction.

"As you wish, Arlong!" Hacchi said merrily, grinning with his strange protruding mouth. "I see you use a sword. I also use swords. I'll go get them." Then the fishman was gone, climbing the walls of the disturbing building behind them and climbing in through one of the windows.

Zoro made a dash for it, attempting to free Luffy, Sanji assumed. His breath caught in his throat when Arlong leveled his gun in Zoro's direction, clicking the safety off with a smooth, almost languid motion.

"Don't make me take all of Hacchi's fun." Arlong said with a sinister grin, but Zoro didn't stop moving, either the moss brain didn't hear the fishman or simply didn't care.

"ZORO!" Sanji yelled out, along with the two men besides him, they yells blending in with the long noses' desperate scream and the lovely young woman's terrified shriek. The yard seemed to echo with the name for a moment, everything seeming to slow down as Arlong pulled the trigger.

If Sanji's perception of reality hadn't been slowed down from the terror of being about to see Zoro get shot, he probably wouldn't have seen it. The long nosed man moved so fast that Sanji was certain his hand would have looked blurred to a passerby. Lightening fast the slingshot was drawn, something like a simple metal sphere the size of a marble slipped from the man's fingers and flew off at the speed of a bullet.

The metal ball flew off, passing Zoro by an arm's length and hitting Arlong's hand, leaving a dent deep in his webbing and knocking the gun off target. The bullet whizzed through the air and shattered the pavement quite a distance from Zoro.

"USOPP!" The woman called out in joy, tears flowing freely as she covered her mouth. Zoro glanced over his shoulder, obviously worried that the sharpshooter, Usopp, was in danger.

"GO, ZORO!" Usopp yelled out, drawing another shot as fast he slingshot would allow. "I HAVE YOUR BACK!"

Sanji could see the smirk on Zoro's face, the slight furrow of concern as he turned his attention back to Luffy, who was weakly screaming something from the bottom of the pile. Sanji's heart was racing, and the two men clinging to the wall besides him were openly sobbing in joy, cheering Usopp on.

Usopp was trembling with fear, keeping his aim trained on the furious looking Arlong who was rubbing the surely-bruised webbing. Sanji didn't know if there was feeling in that strange expanse of skin and tissue, but judging from the deadly expression Arlong was sending Usopp, there probably was.

"Ah! Where did he go!?" Hacchi poked his head out of the window, brandishing six swords as he climbed out onto the small balcony. "Did he get scared and run away!?" Hacchi jumped down from the roof, seeing Zoro and running towards him with his swords drawn and combined into a point.

"Zoro! Behind you!" Luffy shouted, and Zoro turned around just in time to block all six of the fishman's blades with his own white sword.

It was a beautiful sword now that Sanji saw it in action. The blade was sleek and seemed to reflect light that wasn't there. The sun was setting and it was starting to get dark, the lights from that fishman base illuminating the battlefield in a line of squares.

Sanji could see the effort in Zoro's face; the swordsman was in pain, there was probably plenty of strain on his wound and horribly bad stitch work. Sweat dripped down Zoro's face and chin, the power from Hacchi's strike forcing him backwards and threatening to send him flying into another concrete wall.

Fishmen were 10 times stronger than the average human, so it should have been obvious how this test of strength would end. But Sanji waited, the breath caught in his throat as he watched the muscles in Zoro's arms bunch up, and with a roar the octopus fishman was sent flying and tumbling comically into a pile of rubble not too far away.

The battleground fell into silence, the sound of Usopp's trembling and the lovely woman's wracked sobs fading into the sound of rubble settling. Zoro groaned in pain and collapsed down to one knee, panting heavily and clutching the center of his wound, where the stitches had been drawn taut.

"Bastard!" One of the other fishmen, the large white one who had been watching the fight with a disinterest was glaring at Zoro, holding his fist out menacingly and aiming it squarely at Zoro's back. Shadow fell over Zoro's crouched form when the fishman towered over him. "How dare you hurt Hacchan!?"

Zoro glanced over his shoulder, white knuckled grip on his sword as he looked right up at the fishman, jaw set in a defiant scowl. He was clutching at his t-shirt in pain, panting through gritted teeth. Sanji kicked off the wall, his body moving on its own accord. His mind was blank but his blood was bubbling. He couldn't feel his legs move, but he was running so fast it was more like he was gliding over the cement.

He swung his leg over Zoro's crouched form as soon as the fishman was about to strike him in the back, his foot connected with his forearm and bent it inwards, Sanji's foot hit the fishman's side and sent him flying backwards until he collided with a pillar.

The battleground was silent as everyone stared, the dust lingering in the air as Sanji lit himself a fresh cigarette. He glanced over his shoulder; Zoro was looking up at him in shock, mouth slightly slack and skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

"Damn fish-bastards." Sanji grimaced, glaring at the large white fishman that was getting to his feet and dusting off the rubble and pieces of concrete. "I'll be your opponent," Sanji growled, hands in his pockets to protect them from damage.

"Cook," Zoro breathed heavily behind Sanji, the heat of Zoro's body lingering in the air at Sanji's back. "What are you doing here?"

Sanji could hear Hacchi gather the swords again behind him. He wasn't worried though, Zoro had his back, he could just hear it in the rising confidence in Zoro's breath and the way the swordsman slowly rose to his feet.

"Making sure you don't die on me. Can't you choose your enemies a little more carefully? These are FISHMEN." Sanji hissed over his shoulder, his eyes trailing the movement of the large fish man stalking towards him. Sanji made note of the gills on his shoulders and the long ponytail, weak spots that could come in handy.

"If you're scared, this is your last chance to back out." Zoro chuckled softly, and Sanji could swear the idiot was putting his sword in his mouth.

"The only thing that scares me is how much of a moss-brain you are." Sanji smirked, shifting his weight to prepare to kick the oncoming fishman. He'd have to apologize to Zeff; it didn't seem like he'd stay out of trouble after all.

* * *

Special thanks to **VioletClockworker** for being my beta!

Things are starting to heat up guys! What did you think about this chapter? The plot thickens!


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